Next To Me
by dracosgem
Summary: An indepth look at Eli's broken character and his fascination with a certain sophomore.  "You are my only escape, you are the reason that I wait..." Inspired by the song Next To Me by Civil Twilight, as featured on Degrassi, Try Honesty  1 .
1. Chapter 1

_I decided to re-release my Eli/ Clare stories in light of the recent events featured on Degrassi. I think things got a little hairy there for a while so I figured all you Eclare fans might want access to a happier ending between the two of them. _

_This story is inspired by the song 'Next to Me' by Civil Twilight, as featured in Degrassi: Try Honesty (1). This story is an indepth look at Eli's character and how Clare will help pull him out of the darkness that consumes him, though it will not be easy. It begins at their first meeting so please be patient as I re-write that encounter. There will be a lot more material 'in between' the episodes we have already seen so I hope it makes up for it. Note that this story will be very slow and very developed as I feel both characters deserve._

* * *

_Loneliness_…

It was my lifelong friend and constant companion- it would never abandon me and I could never escape it. Long hours had passed since it broke into my world, smothering me with its heavy hand. It had taken oonly a moment for my life to spiral into nothingness, for me to lose the thing that had mattered most. Indeed, loss controlled me at every turn- loss of love, loss of meaning, loss of self. The pain that had once cut so deep was now a dull ache in my shrouded heart. I was numb- completely devoid of feeling- and I drifted through life, dimly aware that my once vibrant clothing had become impossibly black, that I drove a vehicle that caused people to shudder. I didn't care. It matched my mood, matched who I had become.

_Nobody_.

It was true. I was no one, nothing, and I knew that moving to another town and attending another school would not change that. My father had relocated our small family- that is, he and I- to Toronto and it was just as I expected it to be- terribly analogous. As soon as I saw the school I'd be going to, I knew. This was going to be exactly the same as it had been in the last town. I'd be the invisible ghost- the object of rumors bred by fear and social inequality. I would have maybe one friend, a fellow outcast like myself, and we would brood together in your typical, anti-social fashion.

Gee, was I ecstatic about that…

Pulling my shirt over my head, I peeked into the mirror and frowned. My green eyes were blood shot from a fitful sleep and my skin looked paler than usual. I splashed cold water over my face, attempting to make myself look halfway decent. Dresisng quickly, I made my way over to my desk and scooped up my keys. School had started hours ago and I'd slept in- a routine move on my part. It wasn't that I didn't like school, I actually enjoyed learning, but I couldn't stand all the curious eyes. The way they would move over my attire in revulsion, never taking the time to understand why I chose to be different. Of course, it was possible that people might think I just had a thing for skulls and gothic apparel but the moment they saw my car, they always thought I was nuts. But I wasn't nuts…I just liked being myself. It was better than conforming to some ridiculous quota that didn't even really exist, at least not in the real world.

I thought about that as I drove to school. None of the kids had any idea how cruel the world could be, how it could rip something precious away from you in a matter of seconds, how it severed any shred of communication you might have had with your father. The world was hard and callous and I had not been spared from its vicious claws. Lost in my personal hell, I turned into the school parking lot, barely aware of what went on around me. My music was amped and I tapped the steering wheel with my palm. Eyes sweeping the throng of students milling around outside, I turned my head in time to see something small and metallic fly out in front of my car.

_CRUNCH_…

Blowing out a heavy sigh, I pulled to a stop. _Great, I'm here for two point five seconds and someone's already tossing shit at Morty. _

Irritated, I threw open my door and stepped outside. Strutting over to my back tire I noticed a pair of smashed, rather expensive looking glasses crumpled under the balding rubber. I had destroyed something that meant a great deal to someone. A smirk tugged at my lips. In retrospect, I really shouldn't have been happy about that...but I couldn't help it. Maybe now, this person might understand how unfair life could be. It was a lesson learned and I was a willing instructor. Bending down, I snatched them off the ground and turned to face a pair of shocked looking girls.

"I think they're dead," I drawled. My eyes moved from the little, Indian girl with large, expressive eyes to her friend or, more accurately, a living nightmare.

_My _living nightmare.

She gaped at me, her bright blue doe eyes fixed on my lingering form, her face a mixture of shock and intrigue. The girl was slight, a tiny little thing with a coif of ash colored curls and soft, white skin. Her body was rounded, unlike most of the sickly looking girls that graced the cover of magazines, and she wore pretty, feminine clothing that further solidified her natural beauty. And boy, was she my definition of beauty. I had always had a thing for the innocent type and this girl had nailed every physical quality in one. For a moment, I wondered what she was like- if there might be passion lurking beneath all that sweet perfection.

Her soft lips curved into an uncertain smile and she looked down at the pavement in diffidence. "It's…um," she blew out a breath, "okay…got laser surgery."

I couldn't help but smirk. I was making her nervous! I wasn't sure if it was because of me or my 'look' but, either way, it didn't matter. I was done in, she had piqued my curiosity and, seeing as I hadn't found much interest in anything lately, I decided she was worth further investigation.

I leaned forward just a bit and she blinked up at me in surprise. "You have pretty eyes," I said, smirk still plastered on my face. I was a little blown that I sounded so confident when my heart was literally in my throat. This girl had somehow managed to spark an internal reaction- after everything I had been through, all the pain and emotional avoidance, she actually made me feel something. It was…startling.

Coloring, she glanced down at the ground, a coy smile playing on her lips. "Thanks," she muttered and peeked up at me from beneath her lashes. "I'll...see you around?"

I raised my brows, amused by her question. She seemed to be hoping for some confirming reply. I liked that- a lot. It was a split second response on my part, one fueled by attraction and, naturally, fear of rejection.

"Guess you will," I said. Spinning around, I got back into my car and drove away. I willed my heart to stop pounding and my hands to stop sweating, lest I lose my grip on the wheel and crash into a busload of jocks.

Not that that would really be so terrible.

Pulling a deep breath, I parked the hearse and ran a hand through my hair. It had been a long time since I had felt such raw emotion and my body was jittery. This was not good. How could I possibly survive at this school with this girl flitting about- this girl who had managed to crack my exterior with her sweet innocence and lack of judgment? I thought back to the way her eyes had taken me in. When she looked at me, it was like she didn't even see the gothic edge. She saw me. That girl had looked past all the heartache and emotional refuse, right down into me.

I leaned forward, glancing into my rearview mirror. Green eyes peered back at me in cold judgment. "Don't even think about it Eli…" I said, "…you will never have a chance with her so there's no sense getting your hopes up."

Swallowing hard, I grabbed my bag and slid out of the hearse. People were looking at me but I was in a state of total shock, torn between head and heart. I was floored by the reaction that girl had stirred in me- uually, it took major risk for me to have any semblance of feeling. Indeed, danger was something I'd become well acquainted with. The rush that accompanied risk was incomparable and it helped me tap into that part of myself I had buried along with my past.

I loped into the school, well aware of prying eyes. Holding my head high, I looked around, unfazed by the horror of misunderstanding, of misjudgment. I donned a sly, knowing grin- if people only knew there was nothing to fear…that I was just another kid, wrapped in pitch and dealing with life's bullshit.

But they'd never get it.

The day passed in a blur of stares and whispers. By my last class, I had grown quite tired of all the wide eyes and was ready for school to be over. As I made my way down the hall, a small, confused looking girl wandered into my path and all but squeaked when she saw me. I figured she was a freshman and had never seen a freak like me before. Rolling my eyes, I swept past her and into the classroom. My teacher looked like a hippie- she was wrapped in a large, brown sweater and wore a cluster of love beads around her neck. Sipping from a mug- probably organic tea- she bent over her lesson plan, glasses perched on her nose and a knowing expression on her face.

"Uh, hi…" I said, approaching her desk.

"Hello," she replied, giving me a once over, "let me guess…Elijah Goldsworthy?"

"Eli," I corrected.

She tilted her head in thought. "Right then," she pointed to the classroom, "sit anywhere you like, we have open seating in this class."

I looked up. Most of the seats were already occupied but there were two left open. One towards the back and the other in the middle…directly in front of my living nightmare. Lips twitching, I surveyed the girl who'd lingered in the back of my mind for most of the day. Twirling a lock of hair around her finger, she nibbled the full pad of her lower lip and turned the page of a novel she was reading.

_Interesting... _She seemed quite taken with her book and it caught my attention. Most girls were preoccupied with trying to catch boys or gain popularity but she seemed oblivious to it all. It was comical, really- the entire room was abuzz, girls and guys trying to flirt with one another, and she sat in the middle of it all, consumed by a book.

I waltzed over to the desk in front of her and she looked up. Shifting back in her seat, her mouth fell open and she gaped at me in astonishment. I raised a brow and she blushed, cheeks blossoming a soft pink color. Casting her eyes downward, she toyed with cover of her novel. I sat down, looked up at the blackboard, and tried not to laugh. The girl was amusing...and damn cute. But I still couldn't decide whether her reaction was one of fear or curiosity. I wondered if I might be too much for her- she seemed quite shy.

But you can never judge a book by its cover.

Crossing my legs at the ankles, I cracked a crooked smile. I had mastered the art of hiding my feelings and I wondered if Little Miss Innocent might be doing the very same. I had a feeling that there was something more to this girl, something beneath that coy, gorgeous exterior just waiting to be unearthed.

And I was more than willing to take on the excavation.


	2. Chapter 2

_As explained in chapter one, this plotline will not jump into anything. I want Clare and Eli's relationship to 'simmer' a bit before we experience the fireworks._

* * *

Later that week, I was lounging in The Dot, an urban coffee shop where most of the Degrassi students would congregate. I was up at the bar sipping a mug of joe when Clare Edwards, or, more accurately, my corporeal nightmare, whisked through the door. She made her way over to a table in the far corner, head down and eyes on her feet. I noticed that she did this a lot. I wasn't sure whether it was an obsession with footwear or unnecessarily low self-esteem. Either way, Clare had a tendency to look at the floor while she was walking.

It was just another thing that intrigued me. Admittedly, I wanted to know why she did this.

Turning in my stool, I positioned myself where I could get a good view of her without being too obvious. She was sitting next to the little Indian girl I had seen her with that first day. She glanced over in my direction for just a moment. Raising a brow, she studied me, tilting her head ever so slightly. Clare's bottom lip was clenched between her teeth and she seemed to be calculating. I found it amusing and wondered if she pondered me half as much as I pondered her. Drawing circles on the countertop with a finger, I tried to keep myself from gazing into those hypnotic eyes. They were distracting- I had caught them once across the crowded lunch yard and they had nearly destroyed me with their intensity. Turning my head, I swallowed hard when I noticed her still staring. That is, until her friend slapped her on the arm and broke the spell.

"Ow!" she groused, rubbing her bicep in displeasure. "What is your problem, Allie?"

"Why don't you just take a picture," the feisty girl said, pulling Clare's phone out of her purse and pointing it at me, "and save yourself the neck pain?"

I bit back a snort. For such a little thing, that girl was a real spitfire.

"Allie!" Clare hissed. "Remember when you asked me to tell you when you were being pushy? Well… YOU. ARE. DOING. IT. RIGHT. NOW!"

I had never heard Clare so snippy. She glanced in my direction, a nervous look on her face. I was surprised by that. Our interaction had been limited these past few days but what little synergy we did have had proven futile. Clare had seemingly overcome her initial embarrassment however, to my displeasure, a new trend had developed. And it confused the hell out of me. Clare had thrown up a wall- a barrier of indifference that frustrated me more than I cared to admit. I had no idea if she was trying to hide an attraction or if she was simply repulsed by me but, whatever it was it was, it was making me nuts. I didn't have a lot of experience with girls so trying to determine why she did certain things was tougher than I imagined.

For instance, she would lift her chin when she saw me. I had no idea why she did this but, she did. It gave her a snobby, knowing look that I didn't much like. Mainly because it reminded me of my father. I felt like she was trying to prove something to me but, what that was, I didn't know. All I did know was that it really bothered me that Clare, my absolute physical ideal, could remind me of someone who had caused so much pain. I considered that maybe she was trying to point out that she was on my level or something. She was a year younger than me, after all...

I shook my head and took a sip of my coffee. It seemed silly that she would care what I think. We hadn't even formally met! Plus, I hadn't thought once about her age. It just hadn't occurred to me. However now that it was on my mind...

Do _I care that she's a sophomore?_I furrowed my brows and thought about it.

And then I thought about her... About the way the sun would catch her hair, the way she bit her lip in the most adorable way when she was deep in thought, the way she raised her brows in challenge whenever someone toyed with her. Christ, it had been three frickin' days and I was turning into a goddamned stalker!

Rolling my eyes, I blew out a breath. I couldn't care less that she was younger. A year was nothing at all! Besides, Clare was taking grade eleven classes, and advanced ones to boot! I had already figured out that she was brilliant...so why she felt it necessary to prove it was beyond me. Nevertheless, I had taken to keeping my distance. I didn't want to force the girl to be around me if she didn't want to...even though I was dying to be around her. Of course, class made that a little difficult but, we had managed to perfect a routine. I would stroll into English a split second before the bell and Clare would already be seated, lost in whatever book she was reading. I snuck a peek once and spotted a title- Fortnight.

Clare was reading vampire novels.

This surprised the hell out of me. Clare did not seem like the type that would be into something so…dark. I smirked. Although, it did explain any attraction she might have to me.

"Clare, why don't you just go talk to Eli?" Allie said. "You clearly find him…interesting."

As she stressed that last word, I could hear the amusement in her voice. I cuckled inwardly- even though she was a social climber, I was starting to like the little hellion.

"Allie," Clare gritted out. "He is just a boy in my English class! We don't even..._talk_." She looked down, toying with the silver ring she wore on her finger.

"Well, whose fault is that?" Allie replied. "Besides, I've seen him looking at you, too."

I tried not to all out grimace. Had I been _that _obvious? I guess I was so used to not being noticed that I had let things get out of hand. I would have to remedy that. Taking one last sip of my coffee, I spun around and hopped off the stool. Scooping my bag off the counter, I strolled towards the entrance to the coffee house, pausing as a human sasquach and his posse lumbered through the door. We side stepped each other, the guy in front giving me a snide look, and I heard one of his friends mutter something about the 'hot, genius sophomore he was always talking about.' I cracked a smile- apparently I wasn't the only one who had noticed Clare.

The next day I was lounging in English class, coloring my finger nails with a sharpie pen. I'd spied a senior girl earlier that day with a handful of black nails- it looked pretty cool so I thought, why the hell not? My dad would hate it and that was all the more reason to do it. Focusing on my manicure, I barely noticed when Dawes dropped my recent assignment on my desk. I glanced at it, smirking at the large, red A that looked back at me.

"Ms. Dawes!" Clare's frantic voice cried out behind me and I swear, every hair on my neck rose as her breath blew across my skin. "There must be some mistake. I've never gotten a C. How did this happen?"

I almost laughed. Clare was grade grubbing! I knew she was uber intelligent but this seemed a bit silly. She couldn't expect life to hand out A's all the time. It just didn't work that way. Sometimes, contrast was necessary- especially for a girl who had never experienced any in her life.

"Well Clare, your earlier assignments were divine but recently your writing has become...distant...impersonal," the teacher explained.

I thought it a perfectly good explanation but Clare seemed to disagree. "I used complex sentence structure and advanced vocabulary!" she countered.

I rolled my eyes. _Is she serious? _Writing wasn't just about grammar and big words! It was about laying it all out- letting go of your boundaries and throwing caution to the wind. It was pulling material from the deepest part of yourself and letting it flow free, letting it go wild in this thing we call life. One of my favorite writers, Edgar Allen Poe, had put it perfectly: _From my childhood hour I have not been as others were, I have not seen as others saw; I could not bring my passions from a common spring, From the same source I have not taken my sorrow, I could not awaken my heart to joy at the same tone; And all I loved, I loved alone. _It was self-knowledge and personal passion. Leaking your life onto the page for all to see.

Writing was about taking risks.

"Yes Clare," Ms. Dawes countered. "But your assignment didn't tell me anything about who you are...what you want. You can't hide behind vampire fiction forever."

"I'm not hiding," Clare huffed, her tone laced with defiance.

"Then prove it," the teacher shot back, pointing a finger in my direction, "to your writing partner."

I raised my brows in disbelief. "_Me_?"

"Yeah you," Ms. Dawes said, tossing a stack of papers on her desk. "You write well but...you're a little wordy. You and Clare will be editing each other's work this semester."

"Great," Clare muttered. "That'll be fun..."

It took everything in me not to all out grin. There was something oddly satisying about the whole situation. Not only had Dawes partnered me with the prettiest girl I'd ever seen, she had also given me direct access to her head. I couldn't wait to see what was going on in there. And, naturally, I looked forward to teasing her once I found out. I may have been taken with Little Miss Innocent but that didn't mean I had any intention of holding back. When I went for something, I went all the way.

"We may have a very secial patnership here people," Dawes added, pointing her pen at us in excitement. "Like Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes!"

"Sylvia Plath killed herself," Clare drawled.

I found her sarcasm entertaining.

The bell rang and everyone jumped out of their seats. I stood up and shoved my stuff into my bag. Clare lingered behind me, hesitating for a moment. She looked at me with thoughtful expression and I wondered if she might actually say something.

She didn't.

With an abrupt turn, Clare made a beeline for the exit, sweeping around the back end of the classroom.

_Think you'r getting away that easy, eh? _I took the other route and we made it to the door at the same time. She was looking down again, unaware that I was even next to her. Nudging forward, we knocked into each other in the doorway. I smirked down at her and Clare's mouth fell open in outrage. Raising my brows in silent challenge, I watched her narrow her eyes in opposition. Barreling forward, she managed to stay just behind me as we slipped through the opening and I shook my head, amused by her tenacious will.

Clare stopped next to her friend, Alli, and immediately huffed. "He is just so...Argh!"

I was damn smug as I slipped out the fron doors and made my way over to Morty. In fact, I felt a fleeting moment of happiness was in order and it was all because of Clare Edwards. She was beginning to make life interesting and that was new for me. Usually my existence consisted of ducking in and out of school, avoiding my father- not that he was ever home when I was there anyway- and running from a past that refused to leave me alone. But now...now it seemed I had something to look forward to.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I noticed Clare and the hellion walking down the sidewalk together. A wide smile split my face. This was going to be one hell of a semester.


	3. Chapter 3

Lying in bed, I glared up at the ceiling in anger. I was trying to ignore the sounds coming from my father's bedroom, sounds that made me want to do one of two things: vomit or rip him apart. He had come home early tonight, a broad on his arm. They had spent an hour downstairs, drinking aged Scotch, and then retired to the master suite...presumably to play.

I shuddered. Did he really think that this would help matters? A high pitched giggle echoed down the hallway and I pulled my pillow up over my head. For that matter, did he even bother to shut his door? The question was answered by a low moan and I growled in response. Reaching over to my nightstand, I snagged my headphones off the top and slid them onto my ears. Touching the pad on my iPod, I scrolled down to my 'Wednesday Night Play List'. My body relaxed as the loud riffs of Dead Hand filled my ears. I could always count on them to cancel out the repulsive noises drifting down the hall.

Because this had become a ritual.

Every Wednesday, my dad would schmooze his clients by taking them out for drinks. The girls had started shortly after we settled in. I'd be lying if I said it surprised me. He had done it in Edmonton, why would it be any different here? Regardless, it still hurt like hell. I couldn't understand how fucking some nameless wench could alleviate the pain of his problems. Because, when all was said and done, my dad had major problems. He was just as much, if not more, of a risk taker than I was. He just preferred to take risks with his family. Dad liked to see how far he could go before causing detriment. He had done it before, with my mom, and now he did it with me.

In truth, everything that had happened back in Edmonton was just a precursor for the way things were now. I rarely saw my father- he had taken to living at the office- the tied, corporate image now the be all, end all. He was obsessed with money and society, with wanting approval from the outside world. Apparently, he didn't care what he thought of himself, or what his family thought of him- as long as the rest of them gave him the go ahead. Naturally, this fabeled 'icon' expected his son to mirror his actions. But I was strongwilled and bitter- a combination that made turning me into some brainless conformist impossible. So, he reacted in kind, treating me like a hapless leper...a child unworthy of love...and placed the blame on me, to boot. He implied that if I chose to be a normal kid, we might actually relate. I shook my head in disgust- he was deluding himself if he thought he had nothing to do with the state of our relationship...or with my mother's absence.

_Mom..._

Thinking about her made the pain in my chest flare. I shut my eyes against the torrent of saline I knew would come and tried to get her out of my head. As usual, her image was branded into my mind. She was looking down on me, her big blue eyes and soft, sweet face alight with joy. My mom had always given me this pointed look, one laced with affection and pure calculation. I remember how she used to tease me. She always pushed me to be true to myself, to never let anyone get in the way of what I wanted. Any time I did, she would give me that look. It was an unspoken challenge and I rose to the occassion every time. Seeing it now was like a sock to the stomach. It took the breath from my body.

And I let it.

I allowed it to consume me and, before I knew it, I was drowning in memories of her. I squeezed my eyes tight against her brilliance. Mom had always been so bright- she reminded me of an earthbound, celestial being. She reminded me of Clare.

_Whoa...what? _I flinched as the thought occurred to me. It had come out of nowhere! Biting down on my lip, eyes still clamped shut, I willed the idea to go away. There was no connection between my mother and Clare. Sure, they may have had the same shade of hair and the same beautiful eyes, but there was nothing else that could-

"Elijah..."

I gasped and my eyes shot open in surprise. Mouth agape, I stared at the figure in front of me- my mother- who stood but a foot away, lips turned up in a knowing smile.

"_Mom_?"

She nodded, her pretty, ash colored hair bouncing as she did. Seeing her here, in front of me, left me gobsmacked. My heart beat was erratic and my breath came in a series of harsh pants. Tears began to stream down my face as the pain of seeing her in the flesh all but smothered me.

"Now stop that," she reproved, "you know there is no use in crying."

"But...you're..."

"Eli," she stressed. "The details of my life are inconsequential. I am here for you."

I swallowed hard, unable to wrap my head around what was happening.

"Your father-"

I felt a surge of anger course through me. "Is _still _doing it," I hissed.

Mom placed her hands on my shoulders and I blinked up at her in surprise. "Eli," she whispered. "You have to get past this! There is so much more to life than this...this...rut you've stuck yourself in!"

I wrenched away from her. "Weren't you the one who always told me to be true to myself?" I retorted. "This is _my _rut, dammit! It's who I am now!"

She shook her head, a slight smile spreading over her lips. "Circumstance does not define you, Eli," she replied. "Pain is a passing emotion, a fleeting sensation that should flow through you- not stick with you. You are so intelligent, my son, but you let darkness blind you to the truth."

I scoffed in disbelief.

"It's true," she countered, giving me 'the look'. "You choose to be different, to break out of the box that conforms the rest of the world to set rules, yet you cannot break free from your personal misery. Don't you get it, Eli? You have created your own prison! Understand that you hold the power to purge these feelings!"

Walking away from her, I crossed my arms over my chest. "I've got no motivation," I growled. "So there isn't any use in 'purging' who I choose to be."

"Who you choose to be and who you are can be conflicting, especially when you allow the rest of the world- your father- drive your perspective," she replied, stepping up just behind me. "It is your responsibility to make your life, Eli." She paused and then a light chuckle slipped out of her. "On that note, I think you've got more motivation than you realize."

I frowned. What is she talking about? Turning to face her, I all but shrieked in surprise. My mom was gone and...

_Clare_.

Beautiful, innocent, tenacious Clare was standing where my mother had been. She wore a pointed look, one laced with affection and pure calculation.

I shot up in bed, clutching my chest. My heart was pounding and I was covered in sweat. Rubbing my face, I tried to calm myself down. It was only a dream! A very poignant, very intense dream. I looked down and saw my headphones lying on the bed next to me, Dead Hand still pumping through their tiny speakers. They must have fallen off while I slept. Glancing around, I noticed my entire bed was a mess of twisted sheets and pillows. The mattress was damp from my perspiration and my iPod was hanging off of the bed by its cord.

Sliding down onto the floor, I peered at my alarm clock. It's bright red, LED digits flashed 3:33am. I stumbled into my bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. My dark hair was mussed, sticking out every which way, and my green eyes were glassy. I could feel the raw emotion still pumping through my veins and it made me want to collapse, to curl up into a ball and forget everything around me.

_Shit! Why did she have to be so damn cryptic?_My mother had been notorious for her obscurity. She was never one to come out and say what she meant- even though she had been quite forward in this particular dream. But throwing Clare in at the end? It was...I don't know what it was! It was confusing! What could it mean? Was she saying that Clare was my motivation? I could admit that I found the girl intriguing but...Little Miss Innocent helping to redefine who I was? I barely knew her, for Christ's sake!

Grumbling to myself, I ran a hand through my hair and leaned against the sink. I needed to blow off some steam before trying to get back to sleep. Stalking into my bedroom, I hopped on my computer and began surfing the net- anything to get my mind off that damn dream. I logged into my iTunes account and scrolled through the music pages, looking for some tunes to download to my iPod. Finding a few new uploads from Big Electric Cat and the Drop Kick Murphys, I quickly added them to my account and then switched over to Facerange. I decided to do some snooping so I typed in the name of the student council president, Sav Bhandari. He had a shitload of friends, but that didn't surprise me. I raised my brows when I saw he had a fan following of Dead Hand- that was something I didn't expect.

Scrolling down, I pulled up his friend page and my eyes zeroed in on the one person I'd been trying to forget. Clare. With a sigh, I clicked on her page, knowing that I'd be fooling myself by pretending I could resist. I smirked at her profile pic- she was sitting out in the middle of nowhere, a grouping of purple mountains far in the distance. The wind was blowing her short curls in varying directions and she was laughing at something, her crystal eyes sparkling with mischief. My stomach tightened, as did other areas of my body. She was just so damn beautiful! It was hard for me to control my urges. Especially when no one was around and I had a dark room all to myself...

Huffing, I palmed my face in aggravation- this girl was going to be the death of me. I decided to stop being a creepy perv and had a look at her fan following. The majority of them were academic, save for Fortnight. I leaned back in surprise when I saw she had a following for Poe- a common interest- and several other poets, most of them from the Romantic period. Down towards the bottom of the page was a link to her fanfiction. Hmm, this should be interesting... I went to click on the link but before I could, I noticed something that made my breath catch.

Clare was _online_. She was online at half past three in the morning.

My heart started to pound and I swallowed hard as an idea popped into my head. I wondered if I had the balls to see it through. Jiggling my foot in anticipation, I mustered up my courage and moved the cursor. I clicked on her name and an Instant Message box popped up. Taking a deep breath, I began to type.

_eli-gold49: Now what would Clare Edwards be doing up at such an hour? Working on an English assignment, perhaps?_

Blowing out the breath I'd been holding, I clicked the send button. It took a little while for her to respond, not too long, but long enough for me to worry that she might consider ignoring me.

_clare-e23: I could ask you the same thing._

I chuckled. Ah, so she wanted to play it that way, did she?

_eli-gold49: Now Clare, I wasn't the one who got a C on my English paper..._

I could just hear her growling on the other side of the computer.

_clare-e23: Yeah, well...at least I'm not wordy._

I laughed at that one. She was cute...in a defensive kind of way.

_eli-gold49: Seriously, why the late hour?_

She took another minute to reply and I hoped I hadn't crossed the line.

_clare-e23: A lot on my mind. Sometimes I just can't sleep._

_eli-gold49_: I know the feeling. Listen, if you want, why don't we meet up in Dawes' classroom tomorrow during free period? I can read your assignment and give you my expert, albeit wordy, opinion.

_clare-e23_: Don't you have stuff to do?

I did have stuff to do, namely sleeping in Morty's back hatch, but even that couldn't top a whole hour with Clare.

_eli-gold49: Lucky for you, I'm totally free._

_clare-e23_: Hmm, I guess it won't be a problem. Of course, I'll have to clear my busy schedule.

Was she flirting with me? I couldn't be sure but I swear there was a snarky edge to her reply and I found I liked it a whole hell of a lot. I cracked a crooked smile as I posted my response.

_eli-gold49: Naturally, I hear you're a girl in high demand..._

_clare-e23_: Are you being sarcastic, Mr. Goldsworthy?

_eli-gold49_: Me? Never!

clare-e23: Humph. Well as much as I would love to finish this riveting discussion, I'm afraid I need to try to get some sleep before tomorrow.

_eli-gold49_: Yeah, you'll need your wits about you when I give you my critique.

I could just see her rolling those big blue eyes.

_clare-e23: Yeah, yeah. Night Eli._

_eli-gold49_: Night Clare.

I decided to follow her lead. Logging off, I staggered into bed and tried to get some shut eye. As I lay there, I thought about the strange sequence of events that had occurred in the past few hours. My night had been quite the emotional minefield- from my father and his extra curriculars, to the dream about my mother and Clare, to the odd coincidence of seeing her online. I didn't want to admit that there might be a connection there so, instead, I flipped onto my stomach and thought about what tomorrow might bring. It didn't take long for me to fall asleep and, when I did, I dreamt of ash colored curls, bright blue eyes, and witty repartee.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, I rolled out of bed and almost had a fit when I saw what time it was. I was late for school, _again_. Trudging into my bathroom, I fell into the shower, tipping under the stream like one of Romero's infamous zombies. I yawned as the hot water swelled over my stiff neck and shoulders- wearing headphones to bed could be perilous- and tried to snap out of my stupor. I had slept a little too well after my early morning chat with Clare. Grabbing the shampoo bottle, I lathered the soap in my hands and replayed the events from last night in my mind. Clare was interesting. Our net banter, although provoked by me, had only confirmed my suspicion of her formidable spunk. In short, Clare Edwards was tenacious. It was an adjunct that seemed to fit her well and I found it extremely attractive, maybe even more than those big, blue eyes. To me, physical beauty was a perk but passion...passion was _ideal_.

I washed up quickly, knowing that the sooner I got to school, the sooner I'd get into the head of hers. I noticed that Clare had a free period just before Dawes' class, like me, and figured it'd be a good time for me to read through her latest piece. I honestly couldn't think of a better way to end the day. Two hours of looking at Clare was a hell of a lot better than sleeping in a musty hearse. Raising a brow, I considered that I probably shouldn't be so caught up in girl after only a few days but, I couldn't help it. There was something about Clare that made me feel different. Maybe it was knowing that she was so innocent, that, if it were up to her, the world would be a place devoid of darkness. I smirked as I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waste. _If only she understood that light couldn't exist without dark._

That said, I was really interested in seeing what Clare had written about. Dawes' assignment had been to cover a current social issue, to expound on how it affected teens on a personal level. I wondered what Little Miss Innocent would consider affecting. Throwing the towel on the rack, I snorted. _Probably wrote about the incidence of teen atheism and how it affects her uber-stringent religious views._As soon as the thought ran through my head, I wanted to slap myself. I was being a dick. I had no right to judge Clare for her beliefs...even if I wasn't sure I agreed with them. It was just so hard. After everything I had been through, I didn't know how to feel about the idea of God and religion. And although Clare and I had never had an open conversation, I had still noticed the gold cross that hung around her neck.

Heaving a sigh, I stepped into my closet and pulled out my official uniform: black jeans, black button down, black suspenders, black boots. Oh, and charcoal blazer- I didn't want to be perceived as a walking shadow. Throwing everything on, I grabbed my headphones and my bag and headed downstairs. Dad had left for work already, though the scent of Scotch still hung in the air. Luckily, his 'lady friend' was also gone. Back in Edmonton, not a week would pass without my running into one of his weekly lays. One or two of them had even tried to come onto me- something I would never understand. I mean, I know the the whole 'goth' thing can be pretty alluring, especially to some forty year old wench in her sexual prime, but...come on! I'm seventeen years old, for Christ's sake! Like I'd be interested in some crusty, old biddy who just fucked my dad. I shuddered at the thought. The calibre of woman he brought home never ceased to amaze me.

I cocked my head in thought. It might also explain my attraction to Little Miss Innocent.

Humming to myself, I swept into the kitchen and pulled some money out of a cookie jar. At least dad was kind enough to leave cash lying around. If he didn't, I'd be eating ketchup packets for lunch. Grabbing my keys, I made my way outside and jumped into my trusty hearse.

God I loved this car.

It was a total classic- a mid-fifties Cadillac, black, naturally, with red vinyl seats and drab window curtains. I know it might seem weird to everyone else, my driving a hearse, but I didn't care. Morty, short for Mortician, had been a good friend...well, when he wasn't breaking down, that is. I bought him from an old mortuary estate sale back in Edmonton, just to piss my dad off. It was at a point where our relationship could go one of two ways and Morty had sealed my fate. When I brought him home, dad went ballistic- it was the straw that broke the camel's back. We were never the same after that.

Sliding into the driver's seat, I closed the heavy door and started him up. I loved the sound of the engine turning over- it meant I wouldn't have to break in my boots by walking to school. I pulled out of the driveway and cruised down the road, the sounds of Big Electric Cat pumping through Morty's ancient speakers. As I passed the Junior High School I noticed a group of boys playing soccer, their swooning fangirls jumping and giggling on the sidelines. I rolled my eyes- Degrassi was nothing if not predictable. Turning into the school parking lot, I switched off the car and shouldered my bag. School was already in full swing and I had missed my first two periods, which meant it was almost time for lunch.

Strolling into the front office, I nodded at the woman behind the desk. "Morning," I drawled.

She raised a brow. "Don't you mean afternoon? It's nearly lunchtime, Elijah."

I wrinkled my nose in distaste. "It's Eli, and I couldn't help it." I leaned forward, a devious look on my face. "Faulty alarm clock."

The woman smirked and shook her head. "Like I haven't heard that one before," she shot back. "Here's your tardy slip Mr. Goldsworthy. One more and you qualify for Saturday School."

I took it from her and shrugged. "Nothing better to do in this town, anyway," I replied, spinning on my heel. As I slipped out of the office, I swore I heard her chuckling behind me. Ah...always did have a way with administration... I grinned as I sauntered into class, handing my tardy slip to the teacher- a middle aged guy with salt-n-pepper hair. He gave me a pointed look and stubbed a finger at a seat in the back of the class.

Clearly, my charm ended at the front office...

Later that day, I was cursing the element man had labeled time. As a kid I had figured out that, when you're waiting for something, the minutes would pass at an agonizing rate. As a teenage boy hellbent on hanging out with his fabeled Venus, it was even worse. In fact, by the end of fifth period, I was about ready to jump out of my skin. When the bell finally did ring, I popped out of my seat like some macabre jack in the box and shot towards the door. A few students slipped out of the way as I barreled down the hallway, headed for the cafeteria. I wanted to grab a few provisions before meeting up with Clare. I had lunch during fourth period but I spent it trying to catch up with what I'd missed that morning. I may have been unable to get out of bed from time to time but I was no slacker when it came to schoolwork.

Sixth period lunch was just starting as I jumped into the lunchline behind a trio of gorillas. They were messing with a smaller kid in a knit beanie and oversized clothes. I cocked an eyebrow as one of them pushed him forward.

"Come on, we don't have all day," he grunted.

The kid just rolled his eyes and took some pizza from a hotplate. I followed at a distance, surprised by his resillience. He seemed totally unaffected by this posse of lumbering dickwads. I shook my head- the kid had a hell of a lot more patience than I did. Knowing me, one shove would turn into a battle of wits, where said gorilla would fail miserably and resort to physical violence to shut me up. I was well acquainted with his kind. Edmonton had been so full of steroid-induced assholes, I had begun to wonder if there was something in the water. That said, it was a miracle I'd made it out alive.

Grabbing a piece of pizza and an apple, I paid for my stuff and hauled ass towards Ms. Dawes' classroom. I inhaled my pizza on the way- I didn't think it was possible to be this hungry. By the time I got to the other side of the school, I was ten minutes late and I hoped Clare hadn't left. I slowed down as I got closer and tried to catch my breath. I didn't want to look like I was rushing around. It wasn't my style to get all worked up, especially in front of a girl who managed to do just that with a simple, wide eyed gaze. Damn Clare Edwards and her distracting innocence...

As I entered the room, I saw the object of my thoughts in her seat. She was pouring over her latest assignment, brows furrowed as she studied her paper in confusion. Clare was snacking on vegetables...well, more like attacking them in aggravation. I couldn't help but smirk at how easily flustered she got.

I loped over to her and she blinked up at me in surprise. "You're late," she said, giving me a sharp look.

My smirk grew exponentially. "I didn't think I gave a specific time."

Sliding into my chair, I heard her huff behind me. "Whatever," she muttered, "can you just read it and tell me what's wrong?"

She threw a stack of papers in my lap and took a seat on the desktop in front of me, her container of vegetables clutched tightly in her hands. I raised a brow and picked up her assignment.

_Gun Control and the Incidence of School Shootings by Clare Edwards_

_Gun Control? _That surprised me- I thought Clare would have written about something important to her not a national issue that she'd never experienced. Shrugging, I bit into my apple and began to read. At first glance, it was a good looking paper- neat and orderly- but, the further I got into it, the more it felt...forced. There was no individual flow, just a bunch of words on guns and violence- nothing that voiced her particular feelings on the matter. Dawes was right- it was impersonal. Taking another bite of my apple, I tried to think of a way to voice my opinion without coming off like an ass.

"So?" she prompted, looking adorably nervous. "What do you think?"

I looked up at her for a second. "It's aahh..." looking back at the paper, I struggled to find the right words.

Clare sighed in defeat. "Awkwardly constructed, filled with hyperbole, and generally sloppy," she filled in.

"The title's centered?" I offered in consolation.

She blew out a heavy breath. "Dawes is right, I have writer's block!" she admitted.

"So don't hand it in," I replied.

She furrowed her brows. "And what? Tell her the dog ate my homework?"

I looked around in a conspiring manner. "Or you could..._take off_." I dangled the carrot, knowing that Little Miss Innocent would never accept it.

"You mean," she paused, "skip?"

"If you want to get official." I chuckled, amused by her naivety, and took another bite of my apple. Off hand, I noted the irony of the situation. Here I was, appple in hand, tempting sweet Clare like a serpent in the Garden.

She looked down in thought. "It would give me time to write a way better assignment."

As soon as the words slipped out of her mouth, the bell rang. She looked up in panic.

"Decision time," I said, raising a brow.

Clare gave me a smile I'd never seen before- something between mischief and amusement. I liked it- _a lot_.

Weighing my hands, I pressed her further. "Stay...go?"

She bit her lip, cocking her head in thought for a moment. I was surprised she was even considering it. But it was her next move that truly blew my mind...

Hopping off the desktop, she snatched the paper out of my hand and headed for the door. Disbelief clear on my face, I turned in my seat to watch as Little Miss Innocent left the building. She paused in the doorway and pivoted, a questioning expression on her face.

"Well," she said, looking a lot like the cat who ate the canary, "you coming?"

_Holy Shit! Is she serious?_I feigned thought for just a minute- there was no way in hell I'd miss out on skipping school with this girl but...I didn't want her to think she had me by the balls. Shrugging, I stuck the apple in my teeth and grabbed my stuff. She giggled as we slipped out the back door, which was conveniently located next to Dawes' classroom, and stepped into the open courtyard.

"This way!" she hissed, pulling me toward a large shrub.

"Hmm, done this before Clare?" I teased.

She shot me a shrewd grin. "Wouldn't you like to know."

We made our way over to The Dot and Clare bought a cup of coffee before we settled onto a bench out front. Sipping on her latte, she pulled out my paper and sighed. Fiddling with her paper, I gave her a tired look. Had she seriously asked me to skip class so we could work? Looking around, I shook my head.

"Wow, this is a first, skipping school to do _work_," I drawled.

Completely unfazed by my sarcasm, she looked at me in genuine frustration. "Hey, I don't understand how you got an A and I got a C!"

Deadpan, "Simple, I'm dating Miss Dawes."

Clare blew out a sigh and I chuckled at her. "Look, you're a good writer but anyone could've penned this piece. There's...no point of view," I was trying to be nice about it.

"I wrote about gun control," she countered, "I say it's good!

Ah, always the fighter, aren't we Clare? I actually admired her spunk- it made me want to fire back. "Wow," I ribbed, "controversial."

She frowned at my amusement and snatched her paper out of my hand. "Fine," she said, crossing her arms, "what am I supposed to write about?"

Her tone was sharp but there was a vulnerable quality to it- almost like she was begging me to open some secret door inside of her that had been sealed shut.

"Something that..._pisses you off_." I replied without thought. Whenever I felt my writing was becoming sub-par- or anything in life, for that matter- I would think about something that made me angry. It worked every time. Loneliness and sorrow could be consuming but fury...fury helped release me from the bounds of solitary existence.

"You mean, besides my English partner?" she rejoined, her brow quirked in challenge.

"Ouch!" I smirked at her feisty retort. I was beginning to enjoy this side of Clare. Nonetheless, she was looking at me with those wide, questioning eyes and I figured I'd better cool it with the sarcasm.

"If you could change one thing in the world, what would it be?" I asked.

She looked away. "My mom and dad." There was that vulnerability again- the small tremor in her voice made me want to reach out and comfort her.

"They're not exactly getting along," she admitted quietly.

I bit my lip in contemplation. It hit close to home, making me think of my own parents. "So write about that?"

"I can't!" she protested. "It's personal."

Shaking my head, I scoffed. "You care too much about what other people think."

"That is not true," she growled, tone laced with defiance.

"Then prove it."

She tilted her head in question.

"Scream..." I gestured around with my eyes, "at the top of your lungs..."

Clare looked stunned and, then, contemplative. Looking around in uncertainty, she opened her mouth. "Aaaagh!"

Her voice rose maybe an octave. Unimpressed, I gave her a look. "That's the best you can do?"

Her mouth fell open and she narrowed her eyes. _Now that's the Clare I like to see... _

Standing, she smoothed her denim dress and shot me a resigned look. Facing forward, Clare clenched her fists and belted out one hell of a scream. It was so loud a guy browsing behind us almost dropped dead. Everyone stared at us in astonishment and I suddenly felt like an ant under a magnifying glass. Once she was finished, she turned towards me with a smug expression.

I gave her a squeamish half-smile.

"Your turn," she proffered.

"Yeah...not my style..." I stood up, shaking my head.

"What?" She followed me, laughing and pointing in expectation. "No, you have to do it..."

I couldn't help but laugh- she looked so damn cute chasing after me. Backing up, I continued to shake my head as she advanced on me, her face alight with determined amusement. I baked into a nearby telephone pole and Clare pounced, eyes shining with mischief as she attempted to poke me in the chest. It was an innocent move on her part, I knew that, but it didn't stop me from grabbing hold of her. My hands closed around her tiny wrists and I pulled her forward. Our movement stalled as the distance between us dminished and, before I knew it, Clare and I were practically cheek to cheek.

_Oh boy... _In that moment, the only thing I could comprehend was that Clare was ten times prettier up close. From this vantage point, I could make out the varying shade of her eyes- blue with a rim of gold around the pupil- and the width and softness of her lips. Ivory skin, heart shaped face, rounded figure so close to mine...my entire body was thrumming with anticipation and a goofy ass grin split my features. Clare was very aware of our proximity and her face flushed. The coloring of her cheeks was so attractive, I had the sudden urge to lean down and kiss her. In fact, the longer I looked at her the more I thought it a risk worth taking. I began to lean forward a bit- I had to see if those lips were as soft as they looked. But Clare's expression clouded over and she twisted her wrists.

Disappointed, I let her go and held my hands up in surrender. I didn't want to scare her off...but that didn't lessen the sting of losing contact with her soft skin.

She shied away from me, turning around in an almost erratic way. I chuckled- it seemed I had the uncanny ability of making her nervous and I was enjoying it a little more than I should. Glancing at me, Clare hugged her chest and shifted awkwardly on her feet.

I was still so high on Clare, I could care less that she was uncomfortable. I shot her a crooked grin that said, "By the way, I really enjoyed that."

Blushing, she sat down on the bench and looked in the opposite direction. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know what that meant. Did I take things too far? Was she into me? Clare Edwards was decidedly difficult to read. Well, actually, any girl was difficult for me to read. My last girlfriend had been Laura Abrams in seventh grade.

Clearly, I'd been in a bit of a dry spell.

Even still, Clare seemed to be even more puzzling than the average girl and, by the time we made it back to Degrassi, I had no clue where we stood. But, as we told each other goodbye, I realized something...

I was determined to figure it out.


	5. Chapter 5

Elijah Goldsworthy.

Eli.

The undertaker.

Goth boy extraordinaire.

After seveteen years, I was pretty damn sure I had good handle on who I was. I knew what my preferences were, knew that I liked my steak medium rare and that I preferred unsweet tea to the country kind. I knew that I had a talent for writing and mechanics but that, when it came to athletics, I'd tend to fall short. I had managed to figure out, through a matter of deduction, what I loathed and, more importantly, what I loved. And, best of all, I had concluded that I was as cut and dry as they come. I didn't waste my time gossiping, primping, and wondering what the throng thought about me- I was too consumed by the dark pit that had become my life to pay attention to much of anything. In short, Eli Goldsworthy had never given two shits about what anyone else might be thinking.

Until now.

There was something aggravating about watching the foundation on which you had built your philosophy of life topple over like a house of cards. I don't know how I allowed a pair of pretty blue eyes to do just that but, I had. I was completely destroyed and the most innocent, the most ridiculously pure little female was responsible for it all.

_Clare Edwards_.

Her name alone made my gut clench and my heart rate double. I was not, nor had I ever been, a guy who suffered from overanalyzing...but this frickin' girl. She made me go all sixes and sevens. I had no clue what might be running through her mind because, at every turn, she surprised me by doing the exact opposite of what I expected. For example, when Dawes proposed an assignment in letter format, I convinced Clare to write the letter to her parents, to express the feelings she couldn't seem to articulate on paper. To my delight, she acquiesced, giving me the letter the following day. I read through it, awed by the material- not because of the details it contained but because she trusted me with its contents.

To say that the letter was good would be an understatement. It was..._captivating_, just like Clare. It appealed to me because it wasn't sniveling, it was heartfelt, and it wasn't timid, it was direct. The combination was not something I had anticipated. I thought it might be maudlin or slightly erratic but...it wasn't. Throughout the piece, Clare was in total control. And she was honest. I appreciated that. Honesty was something that was tough to come by these days- the entire world was a plethora of propaganda, a web of lies spun to blind everyone to the truth.

What that truth was, I was still trying to figure out, but until then I refused to be dominated by social norms.

And, naturally, Clare fell into the category of socially abnormal. _Damn Dawes and her dratted ideas..._

Really, I'd be lying if I said the letter was the only thing that caused me heartburn when it came to this particular girl. Although it had given me the insight I'd been hoping to gain, it had also destroyed any possible defense I might have against her. Clare was so wonderfully autonomous that it made me weak in the knees. The girl was just as I suspected: _utterly tenacious_. I could push her so far but, when all was said and done, Clare wouldn't waver from her beliefs. She knew her boundaries and she stuck to them. Skirting the line and maybe even bending it was fine but she refused to break from who she was. I thought it one of her best qualities. Knowing that I might be able to influence her a bit was nice but, realizing that she was...Clare...her own person, unflumuxed by the world around her, now that was admirable.

Blowing out a breath, I chastised myself for obsessing over her again. It seemed not an hour would pass without those big blue eyes and soft pink lips drifting into my mind. I had to get a hold of myself before I turned into some sort of sap! Gripping the steering wheel, I peered out of Morty's spotty windshield, trying to catch a glimpse of my bud, Adam Torres. He'd asked me to give him a ride home. I suspected he was trying to avoid walking past The Dot on his own. Things still hadn't blown over since the entire school found out that he was transgender. Personally, I didn't understand what the big deal was. Everyone is individual, with their own choices, what does it matter to everyone else what they do? It's their life. That's why I admired Adam so much. Like Clare, he knew who he was and he refused to deviate from it.

"_Eli_!"

I looked up and saw Adam waving at me. He was walking down the steps with Clare, one arm thrown around her shoulders. They made quite the pair- Adam in his baggy flanels and jeans, Clare in her pretty white peasant top and leggings- it was like looking at a grunge version of Rebel Without a Cause. He turned, whispering something in her ear, and she punched him in the arm. I smirked at the mock anger on her face. She was damn cute when she was trying to look tough.

"What are you two doing together?" I asked, waggling my brows for effect.

Clare rolled her eyes and Adam chuckled. "Why, you looking for a play by play?"

"Adam!" Clare hissed, her cheeks flushing in the most adorable way.

He snorted, apparently just as amused by her embarrassment as I was. Everyone knew that Clare would never be caught dead doing something so...unpure. She was a good girl- devout and loyal to her faith and nothing would ever come between her and that damn ring on her finger. As she swept the bangs out of her eyes, it glinted in the sunlight, taunting me with its blatant rectitude. I growled inwardly. She would never know how much I despised that piece of jewelry- not because of its sexual nuance but because it served as a constant reminder that she was too good for me. Hell, even its stupid title, _purity ring_, was a resounding smack to my already floundering ego.

Crossing her arms, she gave me a small smile. "As much as I'd love to stay and listen to you two fight over me," she teased, "I've got to get going. My mom wants to talk to me about something."

I furrowed my brows. "How _are _things at home?"

Clare looked down and shrugged. "Better," she replied. "My parents started counseling, so..."

"Wow," Adam said, shaking his head. "We really redefine the term dysfunctional."

I snorted and Clare shot him a glare. "Is the commentary really necessary, Adam?" she groused, nudging him in the arm.

He smirked at her. "Hell yes! You have to admit- between the guy stuck in a girl's body, the dude who drives a hearse, and the-

"Sweet, innocent genius who, for some reason, hangs out with 'em," I cut in with a sly grin.

"We're one hell of a bunch!" Adam picked up.

Clare stared at him, wide eyed and slack jawed, as if processing this information for the very first time. In fact, the longer she stood there, the more I realized it really was the first time she had come to terms with the idea. And, for some reason, I found it hilarious. Barking a laugh, I hit the steering wheel with my palm.

"What?" she demanded, wrinkling her nose in irritation.

"You never looked at it that way, did you?" I questioned, blown by her naivety.

Shifting from one foot to the other, Clare cocked her head to the side. "Well...no, I didn't," she admitted. "I guess I don't really look at labels. You guys are my friends, case closed."

Adam's face lit up and I knew my expression likely mirrored his. Hearing something so plain come out of her mouth was better than scoring backstage passes to the Dead Hand Reunion Tour. It was times like these that I realized how done in I was, how this innoncent little thing had managed to wriggle through my exterior and plant herself in my head. And, although I'd never tell her, I would sure as hell relish her willing affection while I could. I looked up and saw that Clare looked conflicted- her wide, blue eyes were brimming with honesty but her mouth was turned up in a little pout. Clearly, she was torn over the discussion.

"Do you two look at me like that?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in disapproval.

"Clare," I grunted, "don't be stupid."

"I am not stupid!" she snapped.

"I know that!" I shot back. _Jeez, someone's touchy today..._

Heaving a sigh, she bit her lip. "Sorry, I've got...things on my mind."

I shrugged. "No big deal." Turning to Adam, I nodded towards the passenger seat. "You coming or what?"

He nodded and then looked at Clare. "I think of you both as my friends," he admitted, looking down at the ground. "It's something that _Adam _has never had so, rest assured, it's real." Glancing up at her, he blinked when she gave him a tiny grin. "You see me for who I really am and I see you exactly the same way, Clare. Labels have never mattered to me."

She reached out and pulled him into a hug, shooting me a smug look over Adam's shoulder. I shook my head, amused by her spunk. "Yeah, yeah...you two love each other," I ribbed, waving my hand, "can we _go _now ?"

Clare raised a brow as Adam pulled away. "Don't think you're excluded from that, buster," she bit back, though her tone was playful. "Granted you've got the whole 'dangerous reputation' thing going but, even you need a little love from time to time." With that, Clare spun on her heel and marched towards the entrance of the parking lot, waving a small hand behind her. She left so quickly, she didn't get the chance to see my face pale at her words.

_Love_? The concept was so foreign to me now, just thinking about it made me cringe. Why would Clare have used that word? What did she mean- she loved me? We barely knew each other! Swallowing hard, I stared at my lap as an invective of feelings pounded down on me. Well, actually, just two feelings: anger, sorrow, anger, sorrow... They alternated, sticking me with such short, even jabs, I barely had time to parry. Adam slid onto the seat next to me and I quickly turned away, attempting to get control of my flailing emotions. They were all over the place. Thoughts coursed through my head at breakneck speed- I didn't have time to catch up with their detrimental affect. Clare loved me. I hadn't heard the sentiment in so long that I wasn't sure it had really been said. Had she said it? And if she had, was it even possible that she could?

_No...no way... _She couldn't mean it that way- she had applied the explanation to both Adam, too. It was friendship, that's all! I was getting all worked up over nothing. Gazing out of the window, I saw Clare throw one last look over her shoulder before whipping around the corner. Eyes flashing, cheeks aflush, my heart sped up as I noticed how much she resembled a celestial being floating across the earth.

Just like her- the only other person who had loved me without cause.

The revelation was suffocating. My breath came in hard, uneven rasps and the world began to spin around me. I was consumed with the subtle tones of her voice, the soft curve of her body, the sapphire hue of her eyes- it was almost too much to bear! In that moment I was aware just how much Clare reminded me of my mother...and it made me want to retch. What the hell am I doing? Do I really want to go through this all over again? My stomach churned in discomfort. I bit down on my lower lip so hard I drew blood. Its coppery, metallic taste was potent and ripped something loose inside of me.

"Eli?" Adam's voice drifted over from beside me. He sounded concerned.

"Yeah," I rasped.

"You...okay?" he asked.

I looked up at him, eyes cloudy. "Adam, what do you think of Clare?"

His expression changed and he leaned forward a bit. "I think you're asking the wrong person, man."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

Blowing out a heavy breath, Adam let his head fall back against the seat. "Eli, what I think of Clare doesn't matter," he explained. "Not in the way you're asking, at least." His head rolled sideways, knit beanie mussing his hair as it stuck to the head rest. "That's all you, dude."

I knew what he meant. He wasn't willing to interfere, to influence my feelings either way. He was making it clear that this was my decision. I'd probably do the same if the shoe was on the other foot.

Nevertheless, it sucked.

I wasn't sure I was ready to face what lay ahead. Clare was a great girl, she was so great...but she didn't deserve to deal with my bullshit. Between her parents, school, and being Adam's new lifeline, she had enough on her plate. Adding my emotional refuse would tip the scales and that was something I couldn't do to her. She needed balance just as much as the next person, the last thing I wanted to do was corrupt her with the monster that was Elijah Goldsworthy. Clare was pure light and I was dark eclipse, she was wholesome and I was defiled, she could save the world with a wave of her hand and I would cast it to flame, just so the rest could know what pain was really like.

I was spurned. My heart was a festering sore- an open wound that would never close- and I suspected not even Clare could heal me.

Sniffing, I switched on my car and shifted it into drive. Adam didn't say much as we made our way to his house. He let me stew in my thoughts- thoughts that were becoming less about love and acceptance and more about uncertainty and confusion.

"Thanks for the ride, man," he said as we pulled up to his house.

I nodded, still lost in thought.

Adam got out but poked his head through the open passenger door. "Dude, I know I said I wouldn't get involved but," he paused, wrinkling his brows as he tried to find the right words, "there are a ton of girls out there, a ton, but not one is like Clare." He adjusted his beanie and shot me a wink. "The girl could change your world if you let her..."

He slammed the door shut and loped over to his front porch, digging in his pocket for a key. I watched him go, a single thought recurring in my mind.

_That's what I'm afraid of..._


	6. Chapter 6

After my mini-breakdown, I'd decided that straight friendship with Clare was the best thing I could hope for. I knew that there was something between us- a spark of some sort- but I wasn't about to let a little chemistry remake my life. I was who I was and nothing could ever change that...though, if Adam had his way things would be different. I'd taken what he'd said into consideration but, in the end, I decided that it just wasn't good enough. I just wasn't good enough. Clare deserved someone like her- pure, sweet, sensitive and, more importantly, open. I was none of those things and I never would be.

Of course, explaining this to Adam did not go over well.

"What do you mean you don't like her?" he asked, disbelief clear on his face.

"Just what I said, I-"

He held up a hand. "If you're going to continue with this charade, don't even bother."

Blowing out a heavy breath, I toyed with the skull on my finger. "We can't be together. At least, not like that."

"But you like her, Eli!" he exclaimed.

I glared at him. "No. I. Don't."

Adam leaned forward, meeting my gaze head on. "That's crap and you know it," he hissed. "Clare makes you totally crazy. I've seen the way you two look at each other- it's sickening!"

I looked away. "It's just..._too hard_," I muttered.

"_What's _too hard?" he asked. "You can't keep feeding me the same line of bullshit and expect me to understand. If you're my friend, you'll tell me what that means."

Biting down on my lip, I thought about what he was asking. I hadn't spoken a word about my past to anyone. There were things I had experienced before coming to Degrassi that could never be revealed. The memories were deep and they were hard, two things that made recollection rather difficult to deal with. But Adam had trusted me with his secret and, although that secret had since come out, it was still something that convinced me of his loyalty...and made me feel obligated to at least provide him with an explanation. I had a long look around. The library was buzzing with activity but we were in a corner towards the back, no one seated nearby. Adam's pressing expression, my burden, and our isolation made it difficult for me to stem the sudden urge to spill my guts. It was too tempting. Plus, I knew that telling him might bring some small reprieve, like lancing a wound that had begun to fester.

Leaning forward, I caved. "Alright, but this does not get back to Clare..."

He nodded and I launched into my explanation, detailing why I felt I couldn't be with her. It was more than just a resemblance to my mother, though that was definitely a part of it. As I rehashed all of my problems- my mom, my dad, my entire world- I began to realize that my issues stemmed from...me. I was my problem and there was nothing I could do to change that. I felt unworthy of Clare. Strike that, I knew I was unworthy of Clare, so there wasn't any reason for me to justify a relationship with her.

Adam tried to understand where I was coming from but, he didn't wholly agree with me- especially where it concerned her. Apparently, he thought we were suited- equals- and that, somehow, she could help me get though this shred of a life.

"I won't tell her," he promised, "but I think you're getting ahead of yourself. You say Clare doesn't deserve any of this but, it's who you are. Were you planning to end your friendship over it?"

I raised my brows. "Well, no..."

"Then how do you expect to keep it from her?"

I shot him a resigned look. "I've kept it from her for this long," I snapped.

Adam cocked his head, a shrewd expression on his face. "Good luck with that, Eli..." His tone was a bit too sarcastic for my taste.

"Thanks for the encouragement, man." I rolled my eyes.

In retrospect, I should have heeded Adam's warning...really, I should have. I should have known that I could never resist the snare that was Little Miss Innocent. Leave it to me to botch my well made plans by falling for her even harder. It was ridiculous. It had gotten to a point where I couldn't fathom the idea of not hearing her voice, seeing her face, touching her skin. She had become a source of joy in my life, something I hadn't had for a very long time. I guess you could say that Clare helped me forget- she made me feel like my past was just a dream. Granted, it was more like a painful, vivid nightmare but, a dream nonetheless. That feeling was nice. I liked being able to lose myself in her light, to forgo all the bullshit and just roll with the punches. I could do that with Clare. I would see her and I would forget.

At present, that ws exactly what I was doing. In fact, I was so far gone I was literally frozen.

Stolid.

Completely immobile.

My eyes drifted down to where Clare's hand was resting on mine and a mindless, repetitive chant began to echo through my head:

_Clare. Touching. Me. _

I stared at our hands in astonishment, floored by how tiny hers looked next to mine. The feel of her skin against my own was even better than I remembered. Mainly because, this time, she initiated the contact. There were a number of instances where we'd touched accidentally- an awkward brush of fingers, legs bumping when she sat in the middle during lunch, arms grazing when we lingered just a little too close. But now...Clare had voluntarily taken my hand in her own.

And I couldn't ignore the affect it had on me.

My heart rate had tripled, my mouth had gone dry, and my tongue felt swollen. I tried to swallow and failed. I tried to remember what it was that had motivated her touch but, right now, I couldn't even remember my own name. Ethan? EJ? Ernest? I had no idea and I didn't care. The only thing I cared about was the feel of Clare's hand on mine.

"Thanks Eli, I really appreciate it." Her voice drifted into my fuzzy consiousness.

I blinked. Clare was thanking me. And I didn't have the first clue what the hell she was going on about.

"Uh, yeah...no problem," I muttered, trying to force my flaring emotions into submission.

Clare furrowed her brows. "Eli, do you even know what I'm talking about?" she asked, looking a little amused.

"Of course," I hedged, a wide smirk spreading over my face.

Clare pulled her hand away and my heart deflated. Crossing her arms, she quirked an eyebrow. "Oh really," she shot back, her tone challenging, "then what _was _I talking about?"

Scouring my mind, I took a shot in the dark. "English class?"

"Are you asking or telling me, _Eli_?"

My stomach lurched at the way she said my name but I managed to keep my cool. "Look, there's Adam!" I waved to our friend, thankful that he had chosen this very minute to wander outside. "Hey man, over here!"

Clare narrowed her eyes. "Perfect timing, as usual," she muttered.

I ignored her subtle jab and nodded at Adam as he waltzed over to where we were sitting. "Hey guys," he said, throwing his bag on the ground. His body followed and he sprawled out in the middle of the grass, lacing his hands behind his head. "'Sup?"

Clare giggled and shook her head. "Nothing, we were just-"

"Flirting?" Adam supplied, a wicked grin on his face. "Yeah, I could see it all the way over there." He stubbed a thumb over his shoulder.

We both fidgeted and I was certain I had never seen Clare so red in all my life. "Has anyone ever told you that there's a difference between being honest and being obnoxious?" she gritted out.

Adam shrugged and rolled onto his stomach. Pulling a comic book out of his bag, he thumbed through the pages. "By all means, carry on..." he said, waving a hand in our direction.

Clare's lips tightened into a thin line and I had to fight to bite back a snort. Adam had moxie- the kid was nothing if not direct.

Deciding to give Clare a break, I turned to her and smirked. "So, about our latest English assignment," I began, "did you want to go over it tonight? I heard something about an open mic at The Dot...poetry." I rubbed the back of my neck. "We could meet there beforehand and then stay for the show. Could be kind of cool..."

Clare looked at me as if I'd grown another head. "I _knew _you weren't listening," she said.

"Huh?"

"Eli! I told you that I have to tutor someone tonight!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms, a smug look on her face.

"Oh, right..." I replied. I found her obvious satisfaction amusing...and cute.

"What was that you were saying about listening again?" she teased, nudging me with her elbow.

I gave her a defeated look. "Alright, you win," I admitted. "I didn't hear a word you said..."

Clare leaned closer, lips quirked in a small smile. "So, if you weren't listening to me then what _were _you doing?"

I smiled back. "I'm not sure you want to get inside this head, lady," I challenged, ignoring the jarring of my heart as she lingered closer than before.

Adam looked up at us and rolled his eyes. "Pretty scary prospect if you ask me," he ribbed.

I raised a brow in contention and he grinned before burying his face in his comic. For a kid dealing with relationship issues, Adam was damn snarky. Shaking my head, I made a note to kick his ass for it later.

Turning back to Clare, I frowned. "Who?"

She blinked in confusion. "Who...what?" she asked.

"Who are you tutoring?" I amended.

Realization dawned on her face and she suddenly looked nervous. "Well, uh," she stammered. "You see, Simpson set this whole thing up and I really don't have a choice in the matter..." She glanced at Adam who was now perched up in the grass, giving her a pointed look.

"And it's not that big of a deal," she continued. "Just two nights a week for the next two months."

Adam crossed his arms and scowled. "Clare?" he pressed.

Heaving a sigh, she threw up her hands. "Alright. It's Fitz."

My mouth fell open and I gaped at her in disbelief. For a moment, I thought I might have lost control of my senses because I was totally speechless. Which was saying something because, typically, I couldn't quell the subterfuge that came out of my mouth- especially where it concerned a two ton gorilla named Mark Fitzgerald. Lucky for me, Adam seemed to find his tongue.

"What?" he shouted, leaping forward and grabbing Clare's hands. "Tell me you're joking!"

Looking down, Clare frowned. "I'm not," she said quietly.

Adam dropped her and sat back on his heels. He stared at her for a moment and then looked up at me, a guarded expression on his face.

I tried to swallow the anger that was bubbling up inside of me but it was no use. "So you're telling me that the guy who has bullied Adam for the past two months, the guy who has made it his mission to ruin my life from the moment I stepped foot in this damn school," I growled. "Is your new study buddy?"

Clare looked up at me, her face twisted in shame. "He's not my buddy," she whispered.

"Answer the question, Clare," I spat.

Wringing her hands, she bit her lip. "Yes."

It was so timid, so sweet, but it made the last shred of control I had snap like a dry twig. "I can't believe this!" I roared, shoving off the ground and grabbing my bag. "Of all people, Clare!"

She frowned. "You're blaming _me _for this?" she asked, eyes darting between Adam and me.

"What did you expect, Clare?" Adam replied. "You thought we'd just sit by while you lead Fitz to academic glory?"

I watched her sweet face go from confused to downright angry. She stood up, jabbing a finger at the both of us. "Don't you dare point fingers at me," she shrieked, "I had nothing to do with this arrangement. If you have a problem with it, take it up with Simpson- he's the one who partnered us!" Grabbing her sweater and bookbag, Clare fled the scene. She stormed towards the school, not even bothering to look back.

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. "Well, _that _went well," I muttered.

Adam rose and watched as she whipped through the front entrance. "Maybe we were a little hard on her?"

I nodded, still too shocked by her news to think about anything else.

"And...maybe we should, you know, make it up to her?" he added.

Continuing my mute nod, I tried to process the image of Clare and the world's biggest dickwad studying side by side.

"Eli!" Adam cried, smacking me up the back of the head.

"What the hell?" I protested. "Watch the hair..."

"What are you, Fonzi now?" Adam griped, rolling his eyes. "We need to fix this, Eli. We acted like a couple of jerks."

Curiosity piqued, I raised my brows. "What'd you have in mind?"

Adam turned back towards the school and a slow, cunning smile spread over his face. "I have just the thing..."


	7. Chapter 7

I had heard some crazy ideas in my time. Hell, most were schemes I'd hatched myself but, this topped them all. When Adam cornered me in the hallway after school I figured his half-baked plan had finally begun to take form. However, when he laid out all of the details, I seriously considered having him committed.

"_Obviously_ you have completely lost your mind."

Adam smirked. "Nope."

I gaped at him as if he were Gregor Samsa from _The Metamorphosis_. "Uh, yeah...I will _not _be doing that."

He threw me a sidelong glance as we headed to our lockers. "Eli, it's for Clare."

"I don't care if it's for the goddamn Dali Lama, lying on his death bed, suffering from a case of genital warts!" I bellowed, drawing the attention of a few nearby freshmen. "I am not, nor will I ever, be doing that..._thank you_."

He smirked. "Ah...is the great Eli scared?"

Narrowing my eyes, I growled. "Stop trying to bait me- it won't work!"

He sighed, adjusting the beanie on his head. "You were the one who came up with the idea," he proffered.

"No I didn't! You twisted my offer!" I countered. "Besides, we don't even know that she'll be there! What if they end up studying at the library?"

Adam stopped short and placed his hands on his hips. He looked decidedly effeminate every time he did that. It made me want to laugh.

"Look, I already told you, I suckered Alli into telling me where Clare's taking the nimrod," he replied.

"But-"

"No buts, Eli," he interrupted. "We know where she'll be and this is a great idea. There's no way Clare will stay mad at us after this!"

Running a hand through my hair, I closed my eyes. "Adam, I'm not really all the comfortable with, you know, _crowds_," I admitted as I spun the combination on my locker.

It was true, I couldn't stand getting up in front of people. I would do it for class but, subjecting myself to humiliation in front of Clare? _I don't think so..._

Adam leaned against the wall, a thoughtful look on his face. "You said you didn't care what other people thought of you," he challenged.

Frowning, I shook my head. The kid was really beginning to annoy. "I don't but...I don't even have any material!" I was grasping at straws- anything to get out of this charade he'd concocted.

"Eli, you have like, piles of notebooks!" he shot back. "Pick one and read it- simple enough."

Slamming my locker shut, I sighed. Adam was not going to let this go. I couldn't understand why he wanted me to be the one to do it. Why couldn't _he _do it?

"And what about you?" I asked, shouldering my bookbag. "As I recall, you have just as much making up to do as me."

Adam grinned. "Does this mean you'll consider doing it?" he asked.

"Gee, a question answered with another question, how convenient," I griped.

Rolling his eyes, Adam snickered. "You are totally considering it!" he ribbed, smacking me in the arm. "_You love Clare_!"

As he sang the last few words, my head snapped sideways and I glared at him. It was one thing to tease me about flirting or being a bit over involved with Clare's life but jumping right to love- that was unacceptable. Although I was a risk taker at heart, I found it difficult to do now, with Clare. I had done it before and got burned. Granted, it was family and not romantic, but it still hurt like hell. How could I even consider trying to love a girl like her when I couldn't even make it work with my mom and dad?

"_Enough_!" I hissed.

Leaning back, Adam wrinkled his brow. "I- I was just kidding, man," he replied, scurrying to keep up with me as I fled down the hall.

Huffing, I faced him. "Look Adam, you know how I feel about that," I said. "I can't-"

"Be with her," he cut in, shaking his head. "I know, I heard that part already. But it still doesn't change that you obviously feel something."

Looking up at the ceiling, I blew out a breath in aggravation. Adam just did not get it.

"Eli, I'm not suggesting you ask for her hand in marriage!" he continued, clearly on a mission from hell. "I'm just asking you to read her one of your damn poems! Pick one that's platonic and you can prolong this state of denial you're living in."

Raising a brow, I looked at him. "You have no tact, you know that right?"

A wide smile split his face and he threw an arm around my shoulders. "So you'll pick me up at seven then?"

I wrinkled my nose in irritation. "You still haven't told me what you'll be doing to make this up to her..."

Adam rushed ahead and spun around, walking backwards down the hall. "Don't worry about me, Eli," he said, "I'm all set. You just worry about what you'll be reading to Clare."

Before I could retort, he did a one eighty and shot around the corner. Shaking my head, I stood there for a moment, thinking about what I'd gotten myself into. Adam was right, I had a shitload of journals back at the house and every one was brimming with lyrics. The only problem was, every poem I'd written about Clare I was unwilling to share. Not because they were sappy or overly harlequin, but because they were raw. The girl was more than just a friend to me, more than just a lover- she was elemental. Like fire, she burned my raging sorrow; like water, she cleansed the soot and ash; like earth, she kept me grounded; and, like air, she kept me alive. For me, poetry was not something that was simple. It was hard, natural, and true. It made things difficult when it came to reciting the blasted crap.

Steadying my bag, I began to walk down the hall. I had to figure out what I could read to her that wouldn't make it sound like she was my living muse.

"So, I heard you've got yourself a new tutor." A crass, somewhat familiar drawl drifted down the corridor, distracting me from my thoughts.

"Yep, Simpson was putty in my hands..."

I gritted my teeth, recognizing Fitz's voice almost instantly.

"And now that sweet, little sophomore will be," the other voice replied. "I don't know how you do it, man."

I did not appreciate the cunning in his tone.

"Trust me, getting her alone has been damn near impossible," Fitz grunted. "She's always with the She-man or that freak, Eli."

Clenching my fists, I snarled. Fitz had set this whole thing up- he had purposely asked Simpson to have Clare as his tutor! I peered around the corner and saw him with one of his two henchmen. They were leaning up against Fitz's locker, smoking a couple of buts.

"So, where are you two going?"

"The Dot," Fitz replied. "I figure it's a good place to start. Clare's a-"

"Prude?" his friend cut in, a knowing grin on his face.

I had to force myself to remain calm. The idea of Fitz even thinking about Clare made me want to beat the bloody shit out of something. Preferably, him but it was two against one and, frankly, I would rather eavesdrop on the asshole and let Clare know what he was up to as opposed to engaging in a fight that could land me in the infirmary. It was completely out of character but, for once, I decided to listen to the inner voice telling me to hold back...a voice that had begun to sound a lot like Clare's.

Fitz pounded him in the arm. "Shut it."

Rubbing his bicep, the other guy grimaced. "I'm just saying, she's not usually what you go for."

"Yeah, well, what I usually go for doesn't hang around long, does it?" he shot back.

I wrinkled my brow. Was he serious? Did he actually...like Clare, for real? Shocked, I stumbled backwards, shaking my head. Fitz was a cruel bastard, there was no way he could possibly know what truly loving someone was like. Not that I was the expert but I knew that I could give Clare more than an affirmation in the form of physical dominance. Looking back, it actually made sense that he had kicked me in the nuts- it was a way to mark his claim, to show the female that he was the alpha. I rolled my eyes- Fitz was pure Id, nothing but hormone and instinct. In short, he was a modern day caveman. Turning tail, I hauled ass out of school and zipped over to Morty. I threw my stuff inside and jumped in with only one destination in mind.

Clare's house. Switching on the ignition, I turned the engine over...

Dead.

"_SHIT_!" I exclaimed.

Looking up, I saw Fitz and the other guy walking down the front steps. I threw my door open and took off, tearing through the parking lot as fast as my legs would carry me. I wasn't much of an athlete and my lungs were burning like hell but I pressed on. As I passed The Dot, I saw that it was boiling over with Degrassi students. I sidestepped Clare's on again friend, Alli, and her little blonde sidekick as they walked out the door.

"Jeez, look where you're going Eli!" she snapped, throwing her hands up.

I shot her a rude hand gesture and whipped around the corner. Hellion or not, she didn't own the road. I continued up the street, passing several blocks before I finally saw Clare's house. I ran up and began pounding on the door, not really thinking about what I was doing. A few seconds passed before it flew open, Clare standing on the other side of the jamb, a shocked expression on her face.

"Eli!" she cried. "What are you _doing_?"

Panting, I bent over, holding up a finger.

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. Clearly, she was still angry with me.

"Clare..." I rasped. "It's a-about...Fitz..."

Rolling her eyes, she leaned into the house and grabbed her book bag. "Mom, I'm headed to The Dot for tutoring!" she called and stepped outside, shutting the door behind her. I swallowed, noting that she had changed her clothes. She was wearing a pretty, floral dress- my favorite dress- and a bright, blue cardigan that accented her vibrant eyes.

She took a small step forward but I moved, blocking her path. "Clare, please."

Heaving a sigh, she looked away. "I'm going to be late, Eli."

"Can't you give me just one minute?" I pleaded.

Facing me, she raised a brow. "Fine, what is it?" she asked.

"Fitz set this whole thing up," I declared.

Clare stared at me, her expression indifferent. She didn't even blink. It was a little worrisome.

"So, you ran all the way here to tell me that Fitz set up our tutoring sessions?" she replied, a small line forming between her brows.

"Well, yeah," I said, surprised that she didn't seem to care. "I'd of thought that information would bother you."

"Why would it bother me?" she asked. "He went to Simpson to ask for tutoring, big deal." She stepped around me, hopping down the steps as if everything I'd just said was nothing at all.

Following her, I shook my head. "No, you don't understand," I explained. "Fitz asked for you specifically."

Clare threw me a skeptical glance. "And this surprises you _because_..."

"Because he's made it his mission to destroy the lives of two of the three people you hang out with!" I retorted, a little annoyed that she hadn't connected the dots.

Stopping, she turned to face me. "A planned attack at The Dot?" she inquired, giving me a pointed look. "Doesn't seem likely."

Clare resumed walking towards the busy coffee house but I grabbed her elbow. Pulling her back against my chest, she stiffened slightly. "He wants you," I whispered, "it's what all of this is about."

She turned her head and met my eyes. It was the closest we had been besides that day in front of The Dot when we'd skipped class. And I was lost. Lost in her magnetic gaze.

"You're mad," she breathed. I felt a small tremble run through her body and it made my stomach drop into my feet.

"No," I replied. "Fitz has this all planned out."

Clare faced forward and bent her head. "Please, jut let me go," she said.

I blinked. "What?"

"Let me go," she repeated.

"You still intend to go through with it?" I hissed, tighening my grip on her arm. "No, I won't let you!"

What happened next was something I never would have seen coming. Clare- sweet, innocent, timid little Clare- ripped her arm out of my grasp and whirled around. Her face was blotchy, cheeks warming quickly, and her lips were pressed together in fury. If I thought that her anger at school had been significant then this was paramount. She was positively seething.

"First you accuse me of setting up the tutoring thing and now you concoct some half-assed scheme to convince me that Fitz, _of all people_, wants to..." she paused, pushing her bangs out of her face in anger, "to, _date _me? I'm sorry Eli, I know that you're currently at war with Fitz but I refuse to be a pawn in your little game."

"I didn't make this up," I argued. "Clare, I'm telling you the truth!"

She threw her hands up. "Okay, so what?' she said. "Fitz wants me. Big deal. What, you think I'm too stupid to figure him out? You think you have to come along and save the day everytime? Control what everyone else does?" She whipped around and began walking towards the shop, ignoring the wounded look on my face. "This isn't Mafia Wars- I'm not a dame you can use as leverage to dick over the boss. I know you're embarrassed that Fitz attacked your manhood in front of half the school but it doesn't mean you get to move people around like they're pieces on a chess board, Eli!"

Stunned, I just stared at her. _She thought this was just a game to me? That she was a game?_

"Clare, I-"

"No," she said, holding up a hand. "I'm going to tutor Fitz and, if _this _is the truth, then I can handle it, okay?"

I frowned at her and shook my head. She couldn't possibly handle Fitz. I knew Clare was strong- in the brave, Austen heroine sense of the word- but she was not stronger than Fitz. All brawn, the guy was walking testosterone. If it came down to him and her, in some dark alleyway, Fitz wuld win, hands down.

Stepping in front of her, I put my hands on her shoulders. "I refuse to let you go," I stated, a resolved look on my face.

Clare bit her lip for a moment before looking up at me. "Tell me why, Eli," she whispered.

I knew what she was asking- I coud hear it in her voice. She wanted me to admit to...something. To tell her how I felt about her. For the first time, I could see the confusion in her face. It seemed that Clare was just as perplexed by our relationship as I was. The typical, sachrine expression she wore was now one of baffled hope. Fidgeting, I looked down at my feet in discomfort.

"_Please_," she asked, her voice thick with entreaty.

I looked up when I felt her hand clasping mine. Apprehension began to well in the pit of my stomach and, I swear, my heart was about to explode. I was also positive I'd begun to hyperventilate and every pore on my body was oozing with frigid sweat. I gazed at Clare, standing less than a foot away, her big blue eyes turned up in expectation. Nibbling her lower lip, I could see the gears turning in her head. She wanted me to tell her- I knew that- but, at the moment, I was finding it difficult to formulate even the simplest word. It was at least two minutes before I opened my mouth to say something and, when I did, Clare beat me to the punch.

"You know what," she said, tone flat and cold, "forget it. I'll see you around, Eli."

Dropping my hand, she spun on her heel. For the second time that day, I stood by as she ran away from me. Clare whipped around the corner, curls blowing in the breeze, the skirt of her dress billowing outward. I could just make out the angry flush to her cheeks. To me, she had never looked more beautiful and, it was at that moment that the answer to her question dawned on me...

_Because you belong to me._


	8. Chapter 8

Gazing up at the sky, I watched in silence as a blanket of night descended on me. A sea of stars rolled forth, twinkling in the distance, and I stared at them, as if in a trance. Cocking my head, I began to notice that they looked a little wonky- the fuzzy, disorganized assembly wavering like fabric in a tepid breeze. I blinked- the vista was surreal, the stars looking more like a thousand, tiny balls of lint as opposed to a vast, impressive macrocosm.

_Hehe...lint... _I snickered and rolled onto my side, bumping the large, half-empty bottle of Glen Breton sitting next to me. It slid off my car and smashed to pieces on the hard concrete below.

"Dammit..." I slurred, looking down at the broken bottle. The shattered glass reminded me of my life- brown, toxic liquid oozing from rough, splintered truth. I barked a loud, disgruntled laugh at the irony of the situation. After everything that had happened with Clare, life still found a way to kick me while I was down. _How clever..._

Really, it was all my fault. If I'd had the guts to tell her how I felt I'd probably be sitting next to her in The Dot, sipping coffee and listening to bad poetry. Instead, I'd chosen the path well traveled, at least by me. Dark, twisted, and thick with thorns, I clearly preferred pain to relief and, lying here now- alone and forgotten- I felt like a fool. Blowing out a heavy breath, I growled in irritation. Despite my best efforts, dad's rare, single malt was doing little to dull the ache in my chest. The sorrows I'd attempted to drown were now the focal point of my foggy brain, heightening the sting of my folly. _If only there was a way to make up for being such a dipshit..._

"_ELI_!" An annoyed, somewhat familiar voice rang in my ears and my head lulled to the side. I saw a shadow moving towards me- small and thin, with what looked like a bulky life preserver tied around its torso.

I frowned. _Who'd be boating at this time of night?_

The dark figure stepped into the beam of a nearby street lamp and my face split into a lopsided grin. "Adam, my man!" I shouted, my tone gleeful albeit garbeled.

His angry gait slowed. He peered at me for a moment before his eyes dropped to the pile of glass next to my car. "Eli, are you drunk?" he asked, pulling up to where I was sprawled on Morty's wide hood.

"Nah!" I rejoined, waving my hand. "I'm just a bit..._saucy_."

Adam's brow furrowed. "What the hell happened to you?" he demanded. "You were supposed to pick me up at seven!"

I pursed my lips. "Seven?"

"Yeah," he replied, his irritation flaring, "Clare, Fitz, The Dot..._poetry_. Ring any bells?"

"Oh yeah!" I shot up, nearly falling over from the trajectory. My head was positively bouyant and I had to steady myself with my hands so as not to end up on the ground next to a broken bottle of scotch. "What time is it? Do you think she's still there?"

Adam took a step back. "Eli...you can't seriously be thinking about going now!"

Sliding off of my car, I rooted my feet to the ground and balanced as best I could. "Why not?" I said, suddenly feeling bold. "You said it yourself, she can't possibly stay mad at me after I read her one of my poems!"

My earlier qualms about Adam's idea paled in the light of my new, scotch-induced perspective. All I could think about was getting to Clare and making it up to her...whatever it was. As the seconds ticked past, I was having more trouble remembering what I'd done to piss her off. At this point, the only thing I could make out was Clare gazing up at me, her full lips pulled together in a tiny pout and her big blue eyes pleading with me...asking me for something. I swayed on my feet, deciding that I would give the girl whatever the hell she wanted as long as she gave me gave me one of her pretty smiles. It seemed the rare, single malt was beginning to do its job. Clearly, I'd spoken too soon- the pain _was _dwindling and all my other concerns had melted away. _I'll have to thank ol' Glen B. for that one later... _

"Come on," I drawled, stumbling to the back of my car. "I've got just what we need."

Adam grabbed my shoulder before I could open the back door. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea," he said. "Let's...do it another time."

I squinted, leaning forward to study his face. "You were the one who came up with the idea and now you want to bail?" I retorted.

"Eli, you are totally and completely thrashed!" he shot back. "This isn't a good. You might do something you'll regret later on."

Shaking my head, I wrenched open the back door and climbed inside. Despite Adam's warning, I still had every intention of heading over to The Dot. It wasn't an issue of possibly seeing Clare- I had to see her. I cocked a goofy grin as an image of her smiling up at me drifted into my head. She was so damn pretty and I couldn't wait to tell her just that. Rifling through my backseat, I looked for a specific journal- the one filled with lyrics about a certain sophomore who had made more of an impression than even my closest relations. I grunted in aggravation- Morty's back hatch was littered with crap. Folders, texts, notebooks, I was having trouble locating the one that I wanted.

Adam opened the other door and poked his head inside. "Eli..." he began.

"Quit it," I muttered. "I've made up my mind."

With a sigh, Adam nodded and began to help me dig through my stuff. We worked in silence, though I paused every so often to re-establish my balance. Each time I did, Adam would give me a squeamish look and shake his head.

After the third time, I'd had it. "What?"

He looked away quickly. "Nothing," he mumbled.

I glared at him. "Spill it, Adam."

Blowing out a heavy breath, he parked himself on the back seat and gave me a pointed look. "I really think you ought to bow out," he said. "Clare's not going to swoon over some guy, who's clearly drunk off his ass, slurring poetry on stage like some inebriated Shakespeare."

"I don't slur!" I argued, sounding a lot like a three year old. Cringing, I closed my eyes. "Look Adam, I know what I'm doing. I'm not going to piss Clare off, okay? I've done enough of that already..."

He raised a brow. "Alright," he muttered, "but it's your funeral."

I found that statement highly amusing, on account of the fact that we were seated in the back of a hearse. Snorting, I leaned forward and slapped my knee. Adam looked at me as if I'd lost my mind.

"Funeral?" I drawled, rolling my eyes.

He blinked, looking a little lost. I gestured around us and a slow, uncertain smile spread over his face. "Oh, right..." He chuckled and looked down at his feet. Cocking his head, a thoughtful expression crossed his face. Clearly he'd spotted something. He leaned down and tugged whatever it was out from underneath the passenger seat. Turning towards me, he grinned in satisfaction.

"This what you're looking for?" he asked. He held a dark, red journal in his hand, a large, black rose inked into its front.

I smirked in response. "That's the one."

I reached for it but Adam snagged it out of my grip. "Hmm, I wonder what you've written about Clare in here..." he said, pretending to thumb through the pages.

I jumped out of the car and circled the front but he was halfway through the parking lot, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Clare Edwards, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways!"

I ran after him, desperately trying to keep up. Unfortunately, Adam was damn quick and my footing was totally off. I dodged sideways, lost my balance, and tumbled to the ground with a loud thud! Laughing, Adam stood over me, waving the journal in my face.

"Gimme that you little shit!" I said, making a swipe for the notebook.

Adam doubled over as he pulled it out of my grasp. "You...you look...so funny!" he gasped and a fit of giggles spewed out of him.

Sitting up, I snagged the book and hugged it to my chest. "Thanks ever so much," I groused, barely managing to get back on my feet. I bent over, palming my knees and taking a deep breath. All the running around was making me dizzy. My head was starting to spin and I decided a needed coffee...stat.

"Come on, let's get over there before I lose my nerve." I stood up and a loud belch ripped from my gut. "Or my dinner..."

Adam wrinkled his nose. "You better not puke on me, Eli," he said, stubbing a finger in my direction.

"I won't be puking on anyone as long as we get me some coffee. Now move it."

The walk over to The Dot was sluggish, in part because I was really _that _wasted. In hindsight, I should have considered this a warning but I was so far gone, logic was the last thing on my mind. As we approached the crowded coffee house, Adam grabbed hold of my arm to keep me steady. Leading me by the elbow, he pushed his way to the bar area, bypassing a number of students and a few adults. I downed a cup of black coffee as soon as we snagged a spot. Draining the cup, I noticed Sav and Holly J cuddled up at the end of the counter. He nodded to me in greeting and I gave him a quick salute before turning back around. The place was packed- open mic was in full swing and a tall, thin beatnick with a pair of bongos was reciting his verse. I snarfed as he beat the drums, singing an offcolor song to the throng of people seated in front of the stage. And that's when I caught sight of her.

_Clare..._

She was sitting at a table in the middle, books and papers spread all around her. Nevertheless, the other occupants of her table didn't seem the least bit interested in studying. Fitz was next to her, sitting closer than I liked. His arm was dangerously close to Clare's and he kept glancing between her the other two- Bianca and Owen, who were all over each other. If I had looked closer, I would have noticed that he seemed uncomfortable- his cheeks were flushed and he fidgeted in concern. But I didn't notice him at all. I only had eyes for Clare and, boy, did she look unhappy. I didn't miss the uncertainty in her eyes- the way her gaze flickered from the stage, to Owen and Bianca, to Fitz's proximity, and finally, to her watch.

She wanted to leave.

This made me more than happy. I looked up as Peter, who was hosting the open mic, thanked the bongo playing beatnick for his performance. "And, if there is anyone else who would like to perform, the stage is yours..." he announced.

A shot of adrenaline surged through my body. I glanced back to Clare and, before I knew it, I was strolling up to the empty stage. I heard Adam hiss my name behind me but I didn't pause. I was too focused on making Clare mine to give much thought to anything. Eyes on my feet, I moved carefully, not wanting to go down for the count before I even made it to the stage. Gripping my journal, I ascended the stairs one by one and, taking a deep breath, wandered out onto the platform.

The entire place was focused on me. I straightened up, swaying sligtly as I planted my feet and scanned the room, looking for Clare. When my eyes finally locked on her, I saw she was staring at me. Her face was alight with curiosity, though she couldn't hide her surprise, and she gazed at me with such intensity it only heightened my confidence. Smirking, I stepped up to the microphone and licked my lips.

"I'm going to read one poem," I said, trying not to sound as blasted as I was. "I'm dedicating it to someone who deserves an answer to a certain question."

Several eyes turned towards Clare and she looked down at the table in embarrassment. Her face was flushed and she seemed ill at ease but I could still make out the tiny smile pulling at her lips.

"This is untitled, as most of my verse is, because I don't think it's necessary to label a piece," I explained, my gaze sweeping the room momentarily. "And, considering that it's about a person, well...how can you possibly expect a title to do her justice? Hell, I'm not even sure this poem will do her justice but, I'm going to give it a shot."

Pulling another deep breath, I opened my journal and began to read.

_You are my only escape  
You are the reason that I wait  
On the corner of this empty street  
Oh I just can't wait to meet  
There's so much a man can do  
And there's so much a man can say  
See I have done so many things wrong  
That you should've thrown me away_

Glancing up at Clare, I saw that she was leaning forward. Her expression was one I hadn't seen before- full of light and shadow, a dual affirmation of her feelings. It made my heart leap. Looking down, I continued.

_I've got this second chance  
I'm gonna take it  
I've got this song and dance  
I'm gonna take it  
I've got all that I need  
And I can taste it  
I've got you next to me  
And I don't want to waste it_

My reading was accompanied by the occasional, female gasp and I noted that several of them were staring at me with dreamy expressions. I almost snorted and then nearly upchucked but I managed to hold myself together. I grabbed hold of a stool behind me, keeping myself balanced, and read on.

_You are my only embrace  
You are the light that lights my face  
And any fool would do the same  
To follow in your trace  
See people come and people go  
And I know I should've been replaced_

I've got this second chance  
I'm gonna take it  
I've got this song and dance  
I'm gonna take it  
I've got all that I need  
And I can taste it  
I've got you next to me  
And I don't want to waste it

I'm gonna take it  
All that I can get  
I'm gonna take it

I looked at Clare, a slow, crooked grin spreading over my face as I continued to recite. Her eyes were glassy, possibly watery, and I hoped this was a good sign. I hoped that everything I was reading to her told her how I felt- how _she _made me feel.

_It's beautiful the way you love  
The way you take me back  
Here she comes around the bend  
She's coming to take me back_

My eyes never left hers. It was as if we were the only two people in the room, the only two people in existence. And I kept on, kept telling her how she had rocked my world and how I needed a chance to return the favor.

_I've got this second chance  
I'm gonna take it  
I've got this song and dance  
I'm gonna take it  
I've got all that I need  
And I can taste it  
I've got you next to me  
And I don't want to waste it_

You are my only escape  
You are the reason that I wait

With my last word, the entire place erupted in applause, save for the guy who was 'too cool' and, I assumed, Fitz and his tongue wrestling posse. I smirked and my eyes drifted to where Clare was seated.

I nearly fell over. She was _gone_. Her books, her bag...everything...was gone.

Upset, I stumbled off the stage, just missing Peter as he ran up the stairs. "Nice job, man," he said, patting me on the back.

"Thanks," I muttered, my sarcasm pointed.

Streaking past the crowded tables, past the bar, past Adam who was waving at me like a mandman, I fell out the front door. Stumbling into the alleyway beside the place, my gag reflex finally fell apart under a wave of stress. Bending over, I purged everything- my sanity, my rejection, and, most of all, my pain. Wiping my mouth, I stood up and leaned my head against the wall, the gritty brick rough against my clammy skin.

"Did you mean it?" A soft voice spoke behind me and I spun around a little too quickly. A pair of tiny hands gripped my upper arms and kept me from falling over into my own puke. I looked down into a pair of big, blue eyes and blinked.

"Clare?"

She reached up and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. "Did you?" she asked.

Swallowing hard, I nodded. All coherent thought had escaped me and I figured it was better for me to agree with whatever she had said as opposed to trying to make heads or tails of it. The only thing I could even comprehend was the fact that Clare was standing there, holding onto me. She stepped closer, her hands curling around my back. I bent my head, the lavendar scent of her hair engulfing me with its sweet aroma. And suddenly, something inside of me snapped. Gripping the sleeves of her cardigan, I pulled Clare forward. A tiny gasp slipped through her lips and she stared at me in anticipation. We were less than an inch away- breaths mingling, hearts beating in tandem. My whole body was on fire and Clare was the ignitor- the fuel for my heated passion- I had to taste her, to know what it was like to connect with her. I peeked at her lips, my exhiliration brimming.

It was in this moment that Clare took the opportunity to surprise me once again. She closed the distance between us. Ignoring the fact that I had just chucked my dinner all over the pavement, she threw caution to the wind. _That's right folks...Clare kissed me._

It was a slight, timid sweep of her lips against mine but it didn't matter. The barrier was broken. I seized her by the waist and spun her around. Pressing her back against the wall, my body locked with hers perfectly- as if we'd been made to fit together- the differing sides of an animated jigsaw. My lips were hard on hers- demanding, always wanting more- and I ran my hands up over her arms. Gooseflesh followed and a gutteral moan bubbled up from deep inside of her. Oh God, Clare... Trailing my lips across her jawline, I gave her neck a playful nip. Swirling my tongue over the tiny wound, I felt her breath hitch and her body stiffen.

"_Eli_..." she gasped, her face aflame.

_Oh damn... _She was making me crazy! Parts of my body were standing at attention and I felt my own cheeks warm as I pressed against her. I didn't want to push Clare to do anything- I had the utmost respect for her- but the scotch was willing me to be bold. I slipped a hand down her chest, brushing the underside of her breast. She arched forward a bit and I could feel her heart pounding as my hands moved of their own volition. It gave me pause. I couldn't do this- not to Clare. I needed to clear my head, to figure things out. The scotch was making me do things I'd never do on my own. It had given me a false sense of security.

Pulling back, I looked down at my muse. Her lips were swollen, her hair was mussed from where my hands had raked through it, and her cheeks were flushed with excitement. She had never looked more goddamn desireable! It was too much...I had to get out of there before I broke down and took her against the wall. Staggering backwards, I ran into a bunch of trash cans across the alley and fell to the ground.

Clare opened her eyes and frowned. "Eli?" she asked, her voice dripping with apprehension.

Shaking my head, I crawled away from her backwards. I had to get out of there before I did something that I couldn't take back. Getting up, I took one last look at Clare- my sweet, beautiful, confused, little Clare- and then disappeared into the night.


	9. Chapter 9

When I woke up the next morning, I was wholly indisposed. The term 'hung over' didn't quite cover how I felt.

In fact, if I were forced to classify my current, physical disposition, I'd say walking death was the appropriate moniker. My head felt like it had been kicked in by one of Fitz's oversized, Timberland boots, every muscle in my body hurt, and...my gut. Well, let's just say that, in my short stint of existence on this planet, I had never been so sick to my stomach. Every last inch of me was sore and somewhat jittery, I was sweating straight alcohol, and, to top it all off, I was in a state of pure, emotional hell- all because I'd made the biggest, most disasterous dick move in history.

I _left _Clare...

The events from the night before were pretty hazy. In fact, I could hardly remember anything at all- _except _that kiss. That mind bending, pants dropping, 'shout from the rooftops' kiss. That kiss that scared me shitless and sent me running like a goddamn coward. _Who am I kidding? I _am _a coward... _Even drunk off my ass I couldn't handle a relationship properly!

Burying my head under my pillow, I decided to lay low for the day. I couldn't face Clare, not after what I did. I tried to shut down the image of her lingering close to me, of her hands wrapped around my shoulders, of her lips brushing softly against mine... _Dammit! I have got to get her out of my head! _

Yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't block out the memory of kissing her. A connection had been forged the moment our lips touched and the raw, primal side of Elijah Goldsworthy emerged. To my delight, Clare submitted instantly- her reaction just as enthusiastic as my own. Hell, it was almost wanton. The way her lips had moved against mine, the way she raked her hands through my hair, the way she fit against me...it was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. And, oh God, her body! She was all soft skin and gentle curve- a real woman. My hands itched to touch her again- to feel the smooth contour of her waist, the subtle swell of her breasts. Just thinking about it caused a stirring in my nether regions and I longed to reach down and relieve the sudden throbbing.

_Good God Eli, GET. A. GRIP!_ I closed my eyes, hoping to stem the flood of images washing over me. How on earth could someone like Clare cause such a reaction? She was so innocent, so chaste- yet she kindled the most ardent, the most carnal, fantasies. It was a bit alarming.

Pressing my face against the mattress, I growled in aggravation. I was such an idiot! Why couldn't I just be friends with the girl and leave it at that? What was it about her that made me turn into some promiscuous Cyrano de Bergerac? Rolling onto my back, I stared up at the ceiling and heaved a defeated sigh. There was no use pretending I didn't know. Because, in the end...

I knew _exactly _what it was about her that made me feel this way.

For the first time in my life, I'd let someone in. I'd gotten to know Clare and I'd let her get to know me. Of course, she didn't know all my secrets- the details of my family life, the event that had changed my view of the world forever- but she knew the Eli bred from that past. And she didn't judge him. I'm sure Clare was curious about why I did certain things, about why I reacted in ways she couldn't understand- but she never asked. She was the most accepting person I had ever met.

Furrowing my brows, I laced my hands behind my head. "Of course I like her," I muttered aloud, "she doesn't integrate."

It was true. Clare stood out from the rest of the world without even trying. Here I was, in my goth gear, attempting to set myself apart from the throng and Clare managed to do it without even batting an eye. She just...WAS.

I glanced over at my alarm clock and groaned. It was already two- I would have to text Adam and ask him to get my assignments for the day. He was not going to be happy with me for ditching him, that much, I was sure of. Snagging my cell phone off the nightstand, I noticed several unread text messages from the boy in question. I blew out a heavy breath and clicked open my mail. The first must have come through just after I ran off.

_Dude, C walking home with F- WTF?_

Great. Just great. Fitz had walked Clare home after I kissed her and took off. I gritted my teeth. He better not have touched her. Shaking my head, I read Adam's next text.

_C crying? Eli! Txt me back! _

Shit. I made her cry. Not that I should've expected something different but, seeing it in print made me want to break something. Adam's last text came in just after one in the morning.

_Dude, U better have a good exp. for all this! C U in AM. _

_Stellar, now I have him to deal with too... _I figured I'd have to explain what had happened but I could already tell that Adam was going to give me the what for. Biting the bullet, I slid down the keypad and thumbed a quick message to him.

_A- sorry 4 last nite. Favor? Snag homework 4 me, meet at my place- 3pm? Thx._

I sent the message and tossed my phone down beside me. Adam should be in Math class so I didn't expect to get a text back for at least-

_PING! _

I frowned and looked down at my phone. Running a hand through my hair, I mentally prepared for his response.

_U R so dead when I C U. 3pm- U better B there!_

Looking up at the ceiling, I moaned. Clearly he'd spoken to Clare and clearly he was pissed off. That's all I needed- another friend peeved at me. Tossing the covers off of my body, I sat up with as much care as I could muster. My head felt like a snare drum, its constant beat pounding on my feeble brain. I stood up and took a few ginger steps towards the bathroom. The movement made my head swim and, suddenly, I felt sick. Throwing my hand over my mouth, I ran to the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time.

_Ugh... _Nothing like day old scotch and a few, partially digested twinkies to set the mood. Hugging the porcelain throne, I told myself it was just retribution for all I had done- instant karma- and that I deserved a lot more than a pounding headache and a little vomit. I rinsed my mouth out and looked into the mirror.

Boy did I look rough.

I was in no shape to even think about venturing downstairs so I hobbled back to my bed and buried myself under the blankets. I had less than an hour before Adam showed and I'd need as much rest as I could get before taking him on. Shutting my eyes, I slipped on my ear buds (it was moments like these that I missed my headphones) and put on my easy listening racket- which, consequently, was the shortest of all my playlists.

Sleep came quickly under emotional duress and, before I knew it, Adam was banging on my door like a frickin' psychopath. "Eli, get your punk ass down here!" he bellowed.

Rubbing my face, I yawned and rolled out of bed. I tromped down the stairs, stumbling a bit near the end, and opened the front door. "Hey man," I said, leaning against the frame.

Adam took one look at me and grimaced. "Damn, you look like hell," he muttered.

"It's good to see you too," I rejoined, rolling my eyes. Leaving the door open, I gestured for him to follow me inside and tumbled down on the couch. I looked up as he inched through the opening. "Well, you coming in or what?"

Nodding, Adam shut the door behind him and dropped a pile of notes on the coffee table. "Your homework, my liege," he bit out, sitting down in the chair next to the couch.

"Thanks man, I owe you one."

"You owe me more than one," he said, crossing his arms. "You owe me an explanation. What in the hell happened to you last night? First, you read that poem, then you bolt out of The Dot like your pants are on fire...and the next thing I know, Clare is stumbling into the place all red faced and teary eyed."

I closed my eyes. "Shit..."

"Well put, Eli," he snapped. "What'd you do to her?"

"Well, we...uh...sort of, um..." I trailed off, a sheepish expression on my face.

"Yeah," he pressed, waving his hand for me to go on.

"Kissed."

Adam's mouth fell open. "Oh." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Then why the hell was she crying and, more importantly, why did Fitz walk her home?"

"Er..." I swallowed hard, not really sure if I was ready to get into all this.

"Don't you dare 'er' me," he groused. "I had to deal with the silent treatment today so you'd better have a good explanation for whatever you did."

Heaving a sigh, I gave up. "Alright! I, uh, kind of ran off in the middle of making out with Clare..."

"You did _WHAT_?" Adam flew out of his seat, looking like he wanted to kill me.

My eyes widened and I sat up. "Adam, please," I said, trying to calm him down. "There's a good reason."

He raised a brow- apparently my cue to keep talking.

"Things were getting a little...out of hand," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "And I felt it was necessary to distance myself from Clare."

He sat back down. "What do you mean, out of hand?" he questioned, his brow furrowed.

I cleared my throat. "Well, we were kissing but, it got a little..._physical_," I explained, my face turning red.

"Wait," Adam interrupted, holding up a hand, "you're telling me that Clare let you...cop a feel and then you ran off?"

I looked away. "Sort of," I admitted.

"God Eli, you are such an idiot!" he hissed. "Clare is not the type of girl who runs around getting it on with guys, okay? She's no Bianca."

My head snapped towards him and I scowled. "You think I don't know that?" I countered. "It's the reason I backed off! Things were going way too fast and I felt like I might not be able to control myself. When I get around Clare it's like all logic goes out the window. All I can see, feel, taste is her- and when I touched her, my God...it was like the entire world melted away and the only thing I was conscious of was Clare and the feel of her body and-"

"Okay dude," Adam cut in, looking a bit green. "Details are completely unnecessary."

I gave him a small smirk. "What's the matter Adam, can't handle the play by play?"

He shot me a glare. "So you ran off in the middle of feeling Clare up. Bad form, dude," he reproved. "She wouldn't even look at me today! I had to sit at our lunch table alone."

I looked over at him. "Where did Clare sit?" I asked, unable to hide my apprehension.

Adam gave me a rueful look. "She sat with Fitz, Eli."

"_ARGH_!" I fell back against the couch and covered my face with my hands.

"If it makes you feel any better, they _were _studying," he added, trying to cheer me up.

I blew out a breath. "No, this is my fault," I said. "The way I handled things was really bad. Now I need to make up for trying to make up with her. Jesus, I've got issues."

Adam didn't respond.

"Thank you for not arguing." I wrinkled my nose and he snickered.

"Sorry man, but you are royally screwed," he replied. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to help you, though."

I braced myself with my elbows and gave him a pointed look. "We will not be moving forward with any more of your sordid schemes."

"Hey, I'm not the one who got completely blasted," he argued.

"Good point," I conceded. "But I think this time I'm just going to talk to her."

"Are you planning to tell her how you feel?"

I grimaced. Was I going to tell her? I had figured out that I needed Clare, that much was certain, but did I love her? The prospect scared me more than I liked to admit. After everything that had happened with my mother, I was afraid to take the leap. But Clare seemed so grounded, so anchored. I felt like she could keep me steady. There was also the fact that she was bright- pure light to my dark shadow. And it worked. We were opposites and we balanced each other out perfectly. Where I was well versed in the underbelly of life, she knew everything about the substratosphere. In short, Clare was the yin to my yang.

But making this connection didn't make the idea of telling her any less hard.

"I think I'd better just start with my mom," I said, "and then see where things go from there."

Adam smiled. "I think that's a good idea."

Settling back on the couch, I bit my lip in thought. I needed to think of the perfect way to get Clare alone. _Alone and unable to escape..._

A methodical grin spread over my face. "Adam, you think you can get your brother to do me a favor?"


	10. Chapter 10

As I left Adam's place, I looked around and let out a deep, satisfied breath. _Damn I'm good... _

It was times like these that I relished my unparalelled, Machiavellian dexterity.

Not only had I gotten Drew to agree to help me out of my little bind, but he had also lavished his great appreciation on me for being such a loyal friend to his brother. I chuckled to myself- if he only knew that I didn't see Adam as any different from the rest. Drew seemed to be building from the past- the picture of Gracie still alive in his mind- and, although he had wholly accepted his brother, the loss of his 'sister' had clearly affected him.

But I didn't see the package. Adam might be stocked with different parts but that didn't change anything. He was my friend, case closed.

Strolling down Toronto's wide, urban avenue, I caught sight of myself in the glass of a nearby shop front. Clad in my customary black, I raised my brows at the open grin that split my typically somber features. It was amusing, my dark, goulish look coupled with the excited expression- I looked like a walking contradiction!

But I had good reason.

My master plan was actually going to work. I knew that Clare would never voluntarily meet with me. She had given Adam the silent treatment just for being my henchman so, I knew if I wanted to get her to listen, I would have to put her in a situation where she couldn't escape.

Cue my sneaky but rather productive scheming.

I had devised a way to get Clare alone and there was nothing she could do about it. The set up was fool proof- Drew would text her from Alli's phone, saying that the hellion had just had a huge fight with her boyfriend and that she needed to talk. "Alli" would ask Clare to meet her at Above the Dot, where I would be waiting, ready to dazzle with a presentation of true penitance. Adam had agreed to bar the doors once she got there, leaving us 'locked in' and Clare, unable to escape. Off hand, I noted how creepy that sounded- as if I'd decided to kidnap her or something... _Great, first I sexually assault her and now I hold her hostage..._

Christ, I had issues.

Looking down at my phone, I noted that I had exactly two hours before everything would go down. I still felt like shit but I was willing to power through it to make it up to Clare. I deserved to feel like this after what I'd done. She was the sweetest, most amazing girl I'd ever known and I'd royally mucked up any chance I might have had with her.

Coming to terms with my blunder was obviously still a work in progress.

Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I sped up, hoping to make it home in time to take a shower. I reeked of alcohol and day old stank and that was the last thing I wanted Clare to get a whiff of. Although it had worked in my favor while vying for Dead Hands passes, I had a feeling it would do nothing to woo the girl in question. To be honest, I wasn't quite sure what would woo Clare, considering the circumstances. The plan was a good one as far as getting her there but, where it concerned making amends, well...I still hadn't figured out what I might say.

"Hi Clare, sorry about sticking my tongue down your throat, feeling you up, and then taking off- leaving you in a deserted alley alone and confused!"

Yeah, that'd go over well.

Heaving a sigh, I decided I'd just have to wing it. Things were usually like that with Clare anyway. We never had a normal conversation because we were both completely abnormal. We had our own ticks- things that would set each other off- and witty banter had become the cornerstone of our relationship. It was how we communicated- how we flirted- and boy did I like it. Smiling, I ducked into a nearby alley, planning to take a short cut that would dump me just a block from me street.

That was my first mistake.

There's something about taking a fist to the gut that makes you want to flat out croak. Indeed, as the air left my body and I doubled over in pain, I wished I could relinquish any and all evidence of my existence.

"Stupid freak, you think I'd let you get away with that shit last night?" Fitz's angry voice rang in my ears and I groaned as another fist landed against my side.

Glancing up at him, I grimaced. "Hate to burst your bubble, Fitz," I rasped, "I know you can't go a day without touching me and all, but...I don't do dudes."

He snarled and jumped towards me, shoving me into the wall in the process. "Funny, d'you see me with a dude last night, smart guy?" he hissed, shoving his forearm up under my chin and pressing down against my throat. I stuggled against him as the move pinched my windpipe.

"I'll take that as a no," he continued, a haughty grin playing on his lips. "Listen good, Eli...Clare is _mine_. She will never be yours. I will do whatever it takes to keep the two of you apart, even if that means putting your head through a fucking wall." He pushed against me and my arms went limp as the last of my air was cut off. "Capiche, emo boy?"

I could barely move let alone nod. I just hung there, Fitz's arm depriving me of life giving air. He held it for a few more seconds and black spots began to drift into my field of vision. It was only when I thought I might pass out that he finally let go. I fell to the ground, clutching my throat and gulping air as quickly as my lungs could pull it in. My body was frozen, probably from shock, and I turned my head towards the sky as shadow blocked out the sun. My tormentor stood over me, looking pretty damn pleased with himself. He wore a wily smirk on his freckled face and cracked his knuckles in a primitive fashion.

Feeling began to seep back into my body in the form of anger. I was pissed. Pushing up off the ground, I gathered every ounce of strength I had and put it behind my clenched fist. It smashed into Fitz's face, just below his left eye. He stumbled backwards and I took the opportunity to shove him hard. Toppling over, he went down like a lumbered tree, his large body slamming against the asphalt with a loud crash!

I looked down at him and smirked. "Like a knife to the eye..." I drawled, in honor of my favorite character from The Goon.

Fitz sneered up at me. "You would like Franky, you pansy!" he shouted and drove up off the pavement, right into my stomach. We crashed into a pile of cardboard boxes and my feet went over my head as Fitz landed on top of me. His fist caught my chin and I grunted, holding my hands out towards him in an effort to block his blows.

"How does that feel," he snarled, landing another hit on my back as I rolled away from him. "Feel good, freak? I was gonna cut you some slack but now I'm gonna make you pay!"

"Let me know where to make out the check," I huffed and managed to stick a couple of punches in his gut. He winced, giving me the opportunity to push him off of me. Moving sideways, I got up off the ground but Fitz had done the same. We faced each other, fists popped, ready for combat like a couple of MMA fighters.

"The next place that little She-Man will visit you will be the hospital," he threatened, wiping the blood off of his split cheek. "And I'll have Clare to nurse me back to health..."

His grinning face and suggestive tone unleashed something inside of me. "Not if I can help it!" I roared, and dove on him in a state of pure, unadulterated fury. Honestly, I don't think Fitz saw it coming. We smashed into a large dumpster and I whaled on the kid with every single bit of strength I had left- which wasn't much- but it seemed to be doing the trick. Fitz's face had twisted in surprise and he tried to block the succession of punches as I pummeled his head.

_Take that you overgrown ass! _I was officially frenetic- my hands were moving of their own accord and my brain was struggling to catch up. I seemed to be running on pure adrenaline and I couldn't quite fathom what I was doing to the oaf now pinned beneath me. It was an impromptu reaction- an odd rendition of the kid from_ A Christmas Story_- I was actually beating the _crap _out of my bully. Yet, it wasn't just the physical violence that had me going. Fitz wanted to take Clare away from me- he wanted to keep us from having a relationship. Hell, I don't think he even wanted us to be friends!

That was not something I would take lying down. Clare was my sun- she lit up my world like no one else. Where my mother had done the same, in the end she had failed me. And the more time I spent with Clare, the more I realized that. I had always thought that I had been the one to throw in the towel- that my actions had caused the break in our family- but I was wrong. I couldn't keep blaming myself for my mother's actions, or for my father's. I had been a good kid and their personal problems had bled over into my life, staining it with crimson guilt.

But Clare had come along and changed that. Without even knowing it, she cleansed me. When I was with her, I was happy. I remembered what life could be like. I guess you could say that Clare gave me the hope I'd never had before.

And Fitz wanted to rip that away.

_No two ton, brainless moron is going to tell me I can't be with the girl I love! _Eyes wide, I nearly fell over as the realization hit me. _Holy Shit! I love Clare!_

My hands stopped moving and I stilled, completely blown by my mid-skirmish epiphany. My mouth opened and closed, my fists clenched and unclenched, and I blinked in repetition as the truth sank in.

_I love Clare._

Recognizing it made me feel...relieved and a weight I hadn't even known was there lifted off me. _I love Clare._I could say it a thousand times and it wouldn't matter! Suddenly I was...whole. I could face my emotions, I could feel them! The sentiment running through my head leached down into my body and I grinned in satisfaction.

_I love Clare!_

The euphoric effects of this realization made me forget everything, including the colossal jerk I currently sat on.

That was my second mistake.

The last thing I saw before the bright day went black was Fitz's angry face and one, big ass, bloody fist.


	11. Chapter 11

I was warm. _Extremely _warm. And a pair of soft hands were running over my face.

It felt...wonderful, like someone was trying to memorize every plane, every slope of my features. I was dimly aware that there was also pain- a dull ache that flared slightly when gentle fingers applied too much pressure- but it was minute in comparison to the the sweeping caress. My eyes fluttered but I didn't want to open them. I was afraid that, if I did, the gentle touch would disappear, that it would all be a figment of my imagination. So I kept them shut in hopes that the contact would never end.

And I listened.

The sounds around me were odd- a constant beeping, like a medical monitor, a television- on low- crackling in the background, and then...a small, familiar sigh.

"Oh Eli, what were you thinking?" The musical tones of her voice were higher than usual- choked with concern- and her warm breath played over my face.

_Clare._

She was in the room with me, close enough for me to feel her.

The incessant beeping in the room increased and I realized that it coincided with the rhythmic beating of my heart. Furrowing my brows, I hissed as a sharp pain shot through my head. Eyes snapping open, I looked around in hesitaton and blinked, thinking that what I saw had to be my imagination.

I was in the hospital.

Drab green walls, tacky curtains hanging from dull dowels, institutional bedding in white and gray...and Clare, sitting in the middle of it all, a single star in a colorless void. She was next to me on the bed, wearing a simple green dress that brought out the emerald flecks in her eyes. Her bottom lip was between her teeth and she nibbled it the way she did when she was nervous. When she saw that I was awake, she pulled her hands away and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Clare?"

She nodded, a curt smile tugging at her lips. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

I cocked my head to get a better look at her, groaning as a stabbing pain coursed down my back. I wondered when I had morphed into a human voodoo doll.

"Like shit," I admitted. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?" she asked.

I was about to shake my head but decided against it. "No..." I paused as an image of Fitz slamming his fist into my gut shot to the forefront of my mind. "Oh, wait...Fitz..."

Clare shook her head. "Why on earth would you try and fight him?" she asked, a tiny line forming between her brows.

I smirked and then grimaced. "Me? He was the one who was out for blood!"

Clare looked skeptical. "He told me otherwise," she replied.

The disbelief in her voice made my stomach turn. _She believes Fitz over me?_ _How could this be? Clare and I are friends, we have a connection, we are meant to be together, we..._My thoughts stalled when I looked at her. She was gazing down at me- a mixture of pain and sheer torment playing over her face- and I finally made the connection.

I'd lost her trust.

Two nights ago I had reached in, taken Clare's heart in my hands, and broken it in two. She had put her faith in me, trusted me, and I had taken advantage of that. I remembered the way she looked at me- the affection and honesty in her eyes- it was almost too much for me to take now. How could I have done it? I had left her...alone, confused, mussed, heartbroken...and Fitz had been the one to walk her home, to comfort her where I couldn't. No wonder Clare didn't believe me- she didn't have any reason to.

And it hurt. It hurt like hell.

"Look," she paused, clenching her fists and pulling a deep breath, "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

I frowned in disappointment. "Clare, I...I'm so sorry," I said, my eyes dropping to my hands. They looked bad- my knuckles were still ripped open, just barely beginning to scab over.

She lifted her chin- the same, defiant move she'd used just months before. "For what?" she questioned.

I looked up, throwing every bit of remorse I had at her. "For...leaving you," I whispered. "I wasn't thinking."

"You weren't thinking?" she repeated, her voice cold. "What...you weren't thinking before you kissed me? Or perhaps before you read me that damn poem?"

I blinked, surprised by her use of an expletive. "No, I only meant that I shouldn't have kissed you while I was drunk," I replied, trying to appease her. "It was wrong and it made me...do things that I wouldn't normally do."

She was standing now, glaring down at me in anger. "Right, like _kiss me_," she snapped.

I sighed. She wasn't listening- she only heard what she wanted to hear. "Clare," I stressed her name, "that is not what I meant at all. You need to listen-"

"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" she shrieked. "You got drunk and then you took advantage of the fact that I liked you!"

I tried not to wince at her use of the word liked- as in, past tense.

"You just love playing with people, don't you, Eli?" she continued, her sweet voice riddled with accusation. "It's some sick game to you. Everything that's happened- Fitz, the ID scam, that poem, this fight- _everything_!" She scowled and shook her head. "You'd rather own people than love them. Hell, you probably don't even know what love is!"

I narrowed my eyes as anger shot through me. Sitting up, I ignored the sheer agony that was my body. "You're right," I snapped. "I had no _clue _what love was!"

She gave me a smug look and I matched it with one of my own. "_Until _I met you."

Clare's eyes widened and she opened her mouth but I cut her off.

"You think my life has always been a pleasure cruise?" I said, face twisting in pain. "Well you're sorely mistaken. You don't know what it's like to live with a father that's never there, to live alone, when you're seventeen years old. You don't know what it's like to have a mother who could barely function because her husband neglected her- buried himself in his work, cheated with countless whores to show up the boys at the office. You couldn't possibly understand what it's like to battle the memories of finding her out cold, in a puddle of her own puke, time after time...of having the same talk about making changes- about giving up the booze- and then finding her again, only this time she'd gone too far..." I choked as the tears began to well in my eyes, "...stuffing as many pills as she could down her throat, guzzling an entire gallon of alcohol- all because she'd found your father with another woman..._again_."

Clare covered her mouth and shook her head. "Eli, I..." she trailed off when she noticed the torment on my face.

I ran a shakey hand through my hair and hissed when my muscles protested against the movement. It hurt but it was nothing compared to misery's sharp edge. It ripped through my heart, tearing it to shreds as the memories descended on me. I let them bow me forward, turbulent waves pounding, one after the other.

And the girl who meant everything to me witnessed it all.

She watched as I cut open my soul, watched as the black toxins spilled out of me, all over the floor in front of her. There would be no more hiding...I couldn't run away this time...it was just me. Sordid, dark, defiled, rotten..._Eli_.

Clare stared at me, her mouth agape, regret dancing in her eyes. Her expression made me want to do one of two things- laugh or cry- which, I wasn't quite sure.

But I wasn't done yet.

Clenching the sheet in my hands, I gritted my teeth. "She died," I whispered. "She left me...alone, confused, mussed, heartbroken. She left me with that...that asshole." I breathed in a few times before I finally met her eyes. "I swore I would never love again- I was too afraid, afraid of getting hurt, of feeling something only to have it ripped away."

Looking down at her feet, Clare bit back a sob. I could tell she was trying not to cry and it made me love her that much more. _God, why did I even try to deny it? This girl has ruined me..._

I closed my eyes. "And then I met you...and I fell for you, hard. I tried not to, really, I did, but I couldn't help myself. You're just so...amazing. You're a lot like my mother."

I heard a tiny gasp and opened my eyes. Clare looked a bit startled.

I smirked. "Not when she was blasted, mind you," I clarified.

Her lips twitched. I noticed that her eyes had softened and that her jaw was no longer clenched. It gave me hope.

"I can remember, when I was a little boy and life was actually going the way it was supposed to, my mother...she was wonderful. She made me feel like I could do anything- she challenged me, made me feel alive." I looked up. "Just like you."

Clare took a step forward. She was biting her lip, brows furrowed in concentration.

"What is it?" I asked, intrigued by her sudden focus.

"I was just thinking about what you said, about life going the way it was supposed to," Clare replied, sitting down next to me on the bed.

I leaned back against the pillows as she bent forward, winding her fingers through my hair. "Did you ever consider the idea that maybe all this," she waggled a finger between the two of us, "_is _the way it's supposed to be?"

I blinked as the concept dawned on me. Was it possible that my mother's death had not been in vain? That it had served as the catalyst for this, for...us? I thought back to my dream a few months before. My mother had told me that I had motivation and then she had shown me Clare. After that, I had tried to ignore the connections, the things that pointed to our inevitable union, but it was no use.

Clare and I were meant to be.

Everything in my life had led up to meeting this girl. I was _supposed _to have a horrible father, I was _supposed _to lose my mother to an overdose, I was _supposed _to leave Edmonton and come to Degrassi...it was all a precursor to my meeting Clare. She was meant to heal me, to be the light to my dark, the yin to my yang. I had never believed in fate, hell, I still didn't, but there was something to be said about the way life played out. I had gone through the moves, I had let it control me...but when it came to Clare, I revolted. From the very beginning I assumed I was no good for her and I told myself I wouldn't fall. But something within defied that logic- _heart_. My black, broken heart had experienced catharsis- all because this girl had looked past all the gloom and doom- right at _me_.

I peeked up at her in astonishment and my breath caught in my throat. She was close...so close that the goddamn heart monitor sounded like it was about to explode. I saw a ghost of a smirk on Clare's face as she leaned into me, nuzzling against my neck. In retrospect, I should have given her hell for it but I was severely distracted by the cacophony in the room- the endless beeping, the fuzzy television, my labored breath, the rustling of Clare's dress against the sheet- it was an agitated symphony but I liked it- _a lot_.

"What do you think, Eli?" she asked, her lips grazing my ear.

I swallowed hard and turned my head to face her. "I think you might just have a point there, Edwards."

Clare's face split into a wide smile and I smirked back at her. "I love you, Clare."

"I love you too, Eli."

The resulting kiss was not tender. In fact, it hurt like hell, but I ignored it...figured that could be my just retribution for leaving Clare in the alley. Her hands gripped my hair and I gripped her waist, pulling her into bed with me and earning a tiny whimper in return. She was light, so the added weight wasn't too terrible, and extremely soft- softer than I remembered. I trailed my hands over her face, down her neck, and along her back. She shivered and a small sigh escaped her. I took the opportunity to slide my tongue into her mouth and she reciprocated, ur tongues dancing a slow, measured tango. The pain in my body ebbed when Clare's hands snaked around my waist and I thought I might lose consciousness altogether when her knee brushed against me _right there_.

"Clare, I'm trying really hard to be a gentleman here," I rasped and I felt her giggle against me. She stopped playing and snuggled into my chest. It felt wonderful, having her in my arms, and I squeezed her tight- never wanting to let go.

"Alright, asshol-y shit!" Adam's voice echoed through the room and Clare shot up out of the bed as if I'd just burned her.

I groaned from the loss of her touch and from the sudden pounding in my body. "Clare, the next time I'm beaten to a bloody pulp do you think you could vault off of me with a little less momentum? I mean, I know we're going for the gold here, but Christ!"

She narrowed her eyes. "Watch your mouth, mister," she shot back.

"Ah yes, I seem to have forgotten myself," I retorted. "Time to hit the confessional!"

She swatted me in the arm and I gave her a disbelieving look. "Woman, I am bruised to the hilt, are you trying make me completely black?"

"Uh, Eli...that's not exactly a challenge," she shot back, rolling her eyes.

Adam threw up his hands. "Am I even in the room?" he muttered.

I shot him a sly look. "Hey man, how's it going?"

He shook his head. "Pretty well, though I see it's going very well here..."

Clare blushed furiously and I chuckled. "Yeah, I finally found a way to make it up to dollface, here."

Adam frowned. "Oh yeah, and how'd you do that?"

I smirked, lacing my hands behind my head. "Incompetence."

They both looked at me like I had lost my mind.

I snickered and sat up a bit. "Didn't you know? Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent..."

Clare scoffed and shook her head. "Isaac Asimov, Eli?"

I grinned, impressed that Clare was familiar with my favorite science fiction writer. Was there anything about this girl that wasn't magnificent? I smiled to myself, knowing damn well what the answer to that question was.

_Not a chance..._


	12. Chapter 12

It was official- life finally had meaning.

I smirked as I walked through the halls of Degrassi, bookbag slung over one arm, Clare hanging off of the other. I felt invincible. Even with Fitz eyeballing me from the sidelines, planning his inevitable payback, I still couldn't bring myself to give a shit.

And it was all because of her.

With Clare by my side I could do anything. I had come to terms with my past. I had begun to destroy every, single, limiting pretense that had kept me bound since the death of my mother. And I felt more alive than I ever had. It was a risky move, I could admit that much, but I was willing to chance it as long as the hand currently wrapped in my own remained there. Looking down at our interlaced fingers, a wide smile spread over my face. _She has the cutest hands..._

My eyes roamed up her arm, over the swell of her breasts (earning quite the reverberating gulp) and fastened on her lips. They were glossed, quirked in a tiny satisfied smile, and boy, did I have the sudden urge to nibble on them. I inched closer to her as we walked, planning my method of attack. Clare was completely oblivious to my predatory scheme, she was too caught up in reading her latest English assignment to pay me any mind.

"Uh-oh!" I said as a throng of students advanced on us.

Clare squeaked as I spun her sideways and pressed her into a bank of lockers. She blinked in surprise, her papers dropping to the floor, and she opened her mouth to protest. I took the opportunity to silence her with a kiss- the girl was entirely too talkative, anyway.

This was the first time we'd gotten intimate since my stint in the hospital. It had been primarily chaste after that- Clare didn't want to infringe on my healing. Little did she know, a bit of sexual healing was just what I needed. I slid my tongue into her mouth and the smallest, softest moan passed between us. Christ, the woman made me mental- the little noises she made, her warm, cinnamon taste- kissing Clare was like coming home. I was vaguely aware of her hands winding in my hair. Mine were wrapped around her waist- tight, rigid, and unwilling to let go. Unlike our previous kisses- tense and almost frantic- this one was gentle, more relaxed. But it didn't detract from the electricity that crackled between us and, as I deepened the kiss, I realized only one word could describe our connection.

_Charged_.

Clare's hands trailed down to the lapel of my coat and she gripped it with more force than I expected. I smirked as she nibbled along my jawline, down to the soft flesh of my neck. She was willful, tenacious- I reveled in the attention.

And then she sunk her teeth in.

My knees about buckled and a loud groan echoed down the hallway. _Shit, was that me?_My thoughts were moving in crazed circles as Clare licked and sucked at my skin and I made a mental note to thank the writers of Fortnight for bestowing such a blessed talent on my sweet, innocent girlfriend.

She kissed the skin just beneath my ear. "Eli..." she breathed, her lips grazing my lobe.

Her hot breath ignited a strain of gooseflesh over my body and, her voice...her goddamn voice was husky, sexy. It exuded desire. That concept was difficult for me to wrap my head around. This was Clare we were talking about! She couldn't possibly- Oh God... My eyes rolled back in my head as she snaked her hands up under my jacket and ran her nails along the waistline of my jeans. I grabbed her face and kissed her, pressing my body into hers. The fit was ideal and I was hard within seconds. I think Clare knew it, but it didn't seem to bother her.

"Ahem." A familiar albeit authoritative voice broke into my fuzzy thoughts. I considered having a look but my hands were quite full at the moment and there was no way in hell I was about to rid them of the extremely soft, extremely hot woman who occupied them.

"Mr. Goldsworthy, Ms. Edwards, while I realize that school is over I don't think the hallway is an appropriate place to engage in tonsil hockey."

Clare squeaked in alarm and I pulled away from her and spun around. Simpson was standing behind us, arms crossed over his chest, a knowing smirk spread over his face.

"Er..." I tried to hide my growing problem with the hem of my jacket

"Well spoken, Mr. Goldsworthy," he rejoined and pointed a finger towards the exit. "Find a better place for your extracurriculars."

Clare flushed in embarrasment and I looked down at my feet, trying my damndest not to laugh. I bent down and snagged her papers off the floor since she seemed too mortified to do much of anything.

"Mr. Simpson, I..." she trailed off as he held up a hand.

"It's fine, Clare," he interjected. "Just try to keep the PDAs to a minimum while you're at school."

She nodded in defeat and Simpson turned on his heel, loping towards the front office. As he turned the corner, I swore I saw an amused expression on his face. _Hmm, maybe Simpson isn't so bad after all..._

I turned back to Clare. She was in a state of perpetual humiliation. In fact, she looked like a piece of petrified wood. Grabbing her by the hand, I pulled her down the hallway towards the front entrance.

"Come on, Bashful," I said, smirking at her blushing face.

As we lumbered down the front steps, Clare finally found her tongue. "I have never been so embarrassed in all my life!" she cried.

I couldn't help it- I threw my head back and howled.

"Eli Goldsworthy, are you laughing at me?" She placed her hands on her hips and glared at me in mock irritation.

"Oh no," I rasped through my chuckles, "I would never laugh at Little Miss Innocent getting caught with her pants down in front of the principal!"

Clare scowled. "My pants were _not_down."

"Close enough," I replied and shot her a wink.

"Ugh! You are so..."

"What?" I leaned forward, a wicked grin on my face.

Clare's eyes fluttered when she realized how close I was. "Um..." she trailed off, staring into my eyes with her bright, blue gaze.

"I'm _waiting_, Clare," I pressed, a smirk tugging at my lips.

"Eli," she began, closing her eyes, "please stop messing with me."

I chortled and threw an arm around her neck. "Alright, I'll cut you a break," I promised. "_This_time."

Clare sighed and shook her head. She didn't say anything, she just leaned into my embrace as we strolled towards The Dot. It had become a regular, after school ritual. Clare and I, and typically Adam, would head to the coffee house to do our homework and sip lattes. Of course, now that Clare had become my girlfriend I would prefer to spend my time elsewhere. The thought of being holed up in Morty, listening to music and kissing her senseless was ideal but, I knew that was a long shot. If we had homework, I could forget any sort of fantasy because there was no way in God's green firmament that Clare would forgo our assignment to engage in some PG lovin'. _Although, she did surprise me today with her enthusiasm..._

Brushing the thought aside, I trailed behind Clare as she swept through the entrance to The Dot. She made a beeline for our usual table but stopped short when she saw that it was already occupied.

By none other than Mark Fitzgerald.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, leaning back in his chair. "If it isn't Clare Bear and Emo Boy."

I narrowed my eyes and Clare huffed beside me.

"What do you want, Fitz?" she demanded, her tone curt.

"What makes you think I want something?" he asked, a wily grin spreading over his face.

Clare raised a brow. "You know that's our usual table," she said, gesturing to the spot with her hand, "I can only assume you sat there on purpose."

He frowned a bit. "Are you mad at me or something?"

I bit back a snort. What a ridiculous question! Just three days ago he had beat the snot out of me and now he wondered if she was angry with him? He really did need tutoring...

Clare sighed. "Fitz, I know you started the fight with Eli."

Standing up, he stubbed a finger at me in irritation. "Is that what he told you?"

"I think my little vacation in the hospital might have tipped her off, genius," I cut in.

Fitz shook his head. "You really can't keep your mouth shut, can you asshole?"

"Is it that obvious?" I fired back.

Clare shot me a warning look but I ignored her. Glaring up at the lumbering ape, I raised a brow in challenge. Fitz took a step toward me, his fist raised in a threatening manner.

She darted between us. "Fitz, please..." she said, raising her hands in an effort to placate him.

He looked down at her and his angry expression softened.

"This fighting has got to stop. You are both too smart for this- you're acting like a couple of neandrathals!"

Fitz blew out a heavy breath and dropped his fist. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll give him some repo."

I rolled my eyes. _That's reprieve, dumbass..._

Clare smiled up at him. "Now isn't that a lot easier than violence?" she asked.

Fitz shrugged, giving her a hesitant smile. "I guess..." he trailed off and stepped aside so Clare could take a seat. "Um, are we still on for tutoring tomorrow?"

Her eyes flickered towards me as she dropped into her chair. "I don't know if that's such a good idea," she replied, lowering her gaze.

I peeked over at Fitz and about choked up a lung. He actually looked hurt. I glanced around, expecting to see a flock of flying pigs. This emotional reaction was just too bizarre. The guy was volatile and he teetered on the edge of a knife, switching between civility and violence as if there were no middle ground.

"Why not?"

Clare gave him a comforting look. "Fitz, I know that you two have had your problems but," she swept her bangs out of her face, "I'm with Eli now and I can't, in good conscience, tutor the guy who beat up my boyfriend. Do you understand?"

Fitz's face smoothed into a mask of indifference but I didn't miss the tightening of his jaw.

"Have you spoken with Simpson about this?" he asked, a glimmer of menace in his eyes.

"Yes," Clare affirmed. "He's working on assigning a new tutor."

Lifting his chin, Fitz raised his brows. "Fine. Then I guess I'll see you around."

With that, he spun on his heel and loped toward the exit.

"Fitz! I'm sorry!" Clare called out to him.

He paused in the doorway, throwing a last look over his shoulder. But it wasn't directed at Clare. Fitz locked eyes with me, intention written all over his face. I groaned internally- his expression was crystal clear...

_This is not over._


	13. Chapter 13

Later that week, Clare and I were holed up in my bedroom working on a project for English class. Adam had taken off earlier, muttering something about third wheels and noshing some grub, which left the two of us alone...together. I sat on the floor, leaning back against the bed, typing up an outline for our assignment. Clare was sprawled on the mattress behind me, a text book in her lap and papers strewn all around her. She was highlighting with one hand and tickling the short hairs of my neck with the other. I smirked, marveling at her ability to multi-task. _Such a talented little swot..._

Throwing a furtive glance behind me, I swallowed hard. Clare looked quite at ease in my bed. She was propped up on my pillow, her pretty legs and bare feet peeking out from under the hemline of her plaid dress. I shifted a bit, trying to focus on my work.

I was failing miserably.

The view of Clare's legs- soft and slim- and her little feet- milk white with trimmed, baby pink nails- was very distracting. In fact, I'd been stuck on the same goddamn sentence for the last ten minutes. _Dammit, why do I turn into a blasted pervert every time Clare shows a little skin?_

It was true. Every time she wore a dress or a shirt with a slightly low neckline, I'd find myself preoccupied with her body. And Clare had a _gorgeous _body. It wasn't the typical, run of the mill figure you'd find on a teenage girl. She was extremely developed for a fifteen year old and there were times when I wondered if she was a woman masquerading as a high schooler. Of course, her naivety always shot that idea to hell. She was so frickin' innocent it was hilarious...and ironic. Clare was a walking oxymoron- utter righteousness packaged in pure sin. I snorted inwardly- if there was a God, he had one sick sense of humor.

Shaking my head, I tried to think about anything but her. It was difficult, especially when Clare swung her legs over the side of the bed and leaned down to get a look at my progress. I tried not to look at her, really, I did, but it was all for naught. My eyes raked over her body, from the top of her curly head to the tips of her dainty toes. She was so damn pretty and it was making me nuts. Blinking, I was a little surprised by the sudden spike in my hormones. I mean, I knew I was a teenage boy and all but this was ridiculous.

"Dawes wants us to hand in the outline tomorrow and you're still on the _first _bullet?" Clare's amused voice cut through my inner strife and I snapped to attention. "Eli, what on earth have you been doing for the last half hour?"

Grinning to myself, I considered telling Clare _exactly _what I had been doing- the resulting blush would certainly make my day. However, it was close to eight o'clock and I didn't want to be up til the wee hours trying to finish a stupid outline because I'd gotten detoured by my girlfriend.

"Well, I was tossing around a couple of ideas," I replied.

"Oh? And what would those be?" she asked.

I turned away from her. "You'll just have to wait and see," I hedged, bending over my laptop in an effort to hide the screen.

Clare huffed behind me and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Relax, Hieronymous Alloy, you don't need to know every last detail," I teased. "I think I can handle at least part of this project. After all, _I _was the one who got the A on our last poetry assignment."

She let out a scandalized gasp and I peeked over my shoulder, only to come face to face with a swinging pillow. It smacked against my head with a dull _thud!_ and a string of giggles followed.

Cue detour.

Placing my computer aside, I stood up and faced her. She looked slightly alarmed and jumped off my bed as I took a step forward.

"Don't bother trying to get away, Edwards," I threatened. "I _will _get you."

With a loud squeak, she turned tail and fled. Throwing open my bedroom door, she scampered down the hall, laughing the whole way. I was hot on her heels and the two of us thundered down the stairwell and into the living room. Clare positioned herself on one side of the couch while I took the other.

"You know, Clare," I began, signature smirk tugging at my lips, "I was top pole vaulter at my last school..."

"Huh?" She furrowed her brows in confusion and it was just enough of a distraction for me to hurdle over the top of the couch and grab her around the waist.

"Eli!" she cried through a stream of giggles, "let me go!"

"Not a chance, lady. You owe me for that pillow to the face," I teased.

Clare struggled against my grip but it was no use- I was a human vice. So, instead of fighting, she decided to play dirty. Turning in my embrace, she faced me with a coy smile. I pulled a deep breath as our eyes locked and Clare began to lean in...

Now, admitting defeat was not something I liked to do but I considered this a win-win situation. One, Clare was still locked in my arms; and two, I was getting a kiss out of the deal. Not much of a compromise, if you ask me. However, she did manage to propel me into a familiar state of catatonia. It was always the same. Those first few seconds before kissing Clare- my breath would catch, my stomach would drop, and my heart would do the rumba. It was your regular ballroom dance class.

That said, I stared at her in expectation as she closed the distance. Gaze trained on her eyes, I lost myself in a cerulean sea. _Ah, just one more inch until total Nirvana..._

_CRASH!_

A loud clatter made the both of us jump and we turned to see my father stumbling through the front door. A couple of broads followed him in, giggling like a pair of drunken hyenas.

_Shit...its Wednesday._ I had completely forgotten.

My father was clearly wasted. Clad in his dress blues- an expensive, pinstriped suit and button down- his tie was undone, his dark hair was ruffled, and there was a mess of lipstick on his cheek. He stumbled around the foyer, bumping into the other two like a rogue dodgem.

I looked down at Clare, an ashamed expression on my face. She looked back at me with compassion and, surprisingly, understanding. In hindsight, it made sense. She had dealt with a great deal of her own family turmoil as of late.

"Come on ladies," my father slurred, gesturing towards the living room, "I've got a whole bottle of Glen Breton with your names on it."

It was obvious my father had not taken notice of the teenagers standing a few feet away. The two birds, however, zeroed in on us like a couple of sexual predators.

"Oh, how cute!" The blonde to the right of my father pointed at us, swaying a bit on her three inch stilettos.

"Aw! Are these your children?" The other one, a brunette in a dress so short it should be illegal, screeched.

"What?" my father rasped, his bloodshot eyes landing on Clare and I. He squinted- the room was dark save for the light spilling in from the foyer. "Who's that with you, boy?"

I stepped in front of Clare. "No one, dad..."

"Like hell!" he boomed and I flinched. "You been fucking some little slut while daddy's at work?"

Clare gasped behind me and I bent my head, wishing the man in front of me would just disappear.

"Answer me, dammit!"

"She's just a friend," I mumbled.

"A friend, eh? I didn't think you had any of those," he snarled.

The two women looked a bit shocked by my father's behavior. They moved away from him, identical expressions of fear on their painted faces.

He turned towards them and snorted, holding out a hand in my direction. "Meet my son, the Grim Reaper," he drawled. "He's the one who drives the hearse in the driveway. Call 'em, the black sheep of the family..."

The women stared at me with wide eyes and I could barely control the rage boiling up inside of me.

"Just two more years," he continued with a garbled laugh, "and then it's Sionara, Satan!"

Gritting my teeth, I kept my eyes on the floor, not wanting to blow up in front of Clare. I had to keep a hold of myself. She didn't deserve to see me crack.

"Isn't that right, boy?" he growled. "Damn good thing you get such good grades. You'll be needing 'em...otherwise you might end up just like your mother- a fucking drunk who couldn't hold herself together."

And that's when the shit hit the fan. Yet, in a rare moment of ambiguity, I wasn't the one who lost it.

"_SHUT UP!" _Clare screamed and pushed me aside.

I stumbled to the right, landing against the chair next to the couch. I gaped at Clare in astonishment. She was pissed. Her pretty face was screwed up in the most frightening scowl I had ever seen and her cheeks, neck, and chest were all a flush. She clenched her fists in anger and, I swear, her hair seemed to be crackling with electricity. Although it should have been the farthest thing from my mind, I couldn't help it...Clare looked _damn _hot.

"A minx, eh boy?" my dad slurred. "Didn't think you had it in you."

"Enough!" she commanded, her voice pitchy and breathless. "I will not stand by and let you talk to Eli that way!"

My father chuckled coldly. "He must be giving it to you good..."

"Oh, can it!" she snapped. "Eli is nothing like you. He's wonderful and he doesn't deserve this...doesn't deserve a father who either ignores him or verbally abuses him, who drove his wife to addiction, who can't even see himself clearly let alone the world. You...you're a disgrace!"

I watched my father's face go from scornful amusement to complete fury. He stalked forward, his gait angry and erratic. It scared me- I didn't know what he might do to Clare. He had never hit me but I had always steered clear of him while he was drunk. Moving next to her, I planned to shield my girlfriend from anything my father might have up his sleeve.

Baring his teeth, he bent his head. "You've got a big mouth, girly."

Clare lifted her chin and crossed her arms over her chest. The move seemed to further irritate the man lumbering towards her. He sped up, hands out in front of him. I prepared to intervene but, as my father neared, his step faltered and his eyes widened. He leaned forward, peering at Clare with a stunned expression.

"_M-Meredith_?" he whispered, his face paling.

My mouth fell open. He thought Clare was my mother. _Wow, he's really blasted..._

She furrowed her brows. "No, it's...Clare."

He shook his head and backed away from her. "Stay away from me, I- I mean it!" he cried, holding a hand out to shield himself from the tiny girl.

Clare looked absolutely gobsmacked. "What?" She glanced over at me in confusion.

"He thinks you're my mother," I said, blown by the abrupt turn of events.

Dad's eyes snapped back to me. "This is all your fault!" he screamed, jabbing a finger in my direction. "You're the one who brought her back here...you, you..._Meredith_!"

He slid down onto the floor, crawling backwards away from her and slamming into the wall behind him. His eyes were latched onto Clare in manic distress and I watched in total amazement as he fell apart. Sobs began to spill out of him, one after the other, until his entire body was quivering with sorrow.

Shaking my head, I tried to compute this in my befuddled brain. My father...he was...crying? It was hard to believe. All these years, he'd been so horrible, so completely detached. It had gotten to the point where I thought he might be a sociopath- after everything he'd done to my mother, to me...the way he had acted after her death...I'd always assumed he had no feelings. Turning my head, I gazed at Clare for a moment.

And that's when it clicked.

_She _had done it. She had broken my father. The sheer magnitude of this realization, of Clare's explicit role in my life, hit me like a ton of bricks. Everything I'd come to terms with so far just wasn't enough. Catharsis wasn't about me and my mother- it was about everything...mending every part of my life- especially the most volatile ones. I looked back at my father and a wave of pity moved through me.

Dad...

Closing my eyes, I wondered how I could possibly feel compassion for him. It wasn't right...it _wasn't_... Tears began to well and I opened my eyes, my vision watery and distorted.

_Holy Shit... _I blinked in realization.

I'd been living a lie. Everything I thought was real was fabrication. I had seen my father but I hadn't really seen him. Was it possible that what I thought I knew about him might not be true? I had only looked at things from one side- there was another perspective I hadn't considered- his. The idea consumed me, made me feel sympathy and also a little bit of shame. I had a feeling that it was all connected to something bigger than me, maybe even something a little bit divine, but I wasn't too sure about God and faith, or even about Universal influence. Yet, I did know that we were all made up of the same energy source and, when that source was stimulated- whether by love or hate- growth was the result.

And here, growth was understanding.

I understood my father. Maybe not totally, but I understood him better. This was more than I could ever hope for. I had no clue where things would go from here. I didn't know if my father would be any better or any worse. All I knew was that Clare had been the one to help me see. By witnessing his collapse, by seeing the emotion he had bottled up inside of him, I finally understood. And I could relate. All this time, I had thought I was so much different than my father...but I had done the very same thing he was doing now. I had run from love. In that moment, the image of my father I had built up in my mind shattered. It was just a mask and beneath it was a broken man.

The women scrambled out of the house in a frenzy as my father tipped over sideways and curled into the fetal position. I couldn't blame them- we were one fucked up pair.

Clare's soft fingers brushed against my hand. "Are you okay?" she asked. Her voice was tender and it made my heart flutter.

I nodded, not quite sure I could speak.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" she proffered.

Again, I nodded. The cool, evening air would help clear my head, as would being in Clare's company. So much had happened in the last week, it was hard for me to comprehend it all.

As we stepped into the black of night, I felt at home in its pitch embrace. Clasping Clare's hand, I let her lead me down the middle of the road- destination unknown. I didn't care. My life was a stormy sea- turbulent and unpredictable- but as long as I had her I knew I would be okay. She was bright, radiant- a flaming beacon in my dark world.

But most of all, she was mine.


	14. Chapter 14

It was two weeks before I could articulate how I felt about the run in with my father.

Clare and I were in the park waiting for Adam. She was leaning back against a tree, her blue tunic bright against the sorrel bark. I had my head in her lap, long legs stretched out in front of us as I flipped through an antique issue of _Heavy Metal Magazine_. Clare ran her hands through my hair, looking down at me with a coy smile. I had become accustomed to this. She seemed to have a fetish for smoothing her fingers through my shaggy locks. Not that I was complaining- it felt damn good. She had a gentle touch...though, whenever I got snarky she'd yank a piece of hair in playful reproach.

And it sent a shot of pure desire right into my gut.

I grinned to myself. _Oh, who am I kididng? Anything she does makes me feel that way._

Clare cleared her throat, breaking me from my abject thoughts. I glanced up at her- she looked like she wanted to say something but seemed to be holding back.

I raised an eyebrow. "Something on your mind, Edwards?"

She cocked her head back and forth in thought. "Sort of," she said.

"Well, spit it out..." I pressed.

Looking away, she bit her lip. "Um," she tugged at a blade of grass to her right, "I was just wondering how things have been at home."

I smirked up at her. _Typical Clare, always worried about me... _

"They're..." I trailed off, trying to come up with a word to describe the odd synergy in the Goldsworthy household, "...a little strange."

Panic flashed over her face and I scrambled to clarify. "It's just...my dad and I haven't really spoken much- a word or two here and there- but I can tell there's a difference." I pulled my brows together. "Does that make any sense?"

Clare nodded, a tiny smile playing on her lips. "Yes, actually," she replied. "You might not be openly communicating- as in words- but the action is there."

I gazed at her in admiration. She always knew just the right thing to say. I had a tendency to let my mouth get ahead of my thoughts- what I said wasn't always what I meant- but Clare was very controlled. There were times that I wished I had the ability but, then again, I happened to enjoy being a spur of the moment kind of guy. Besides, she seemed to like it just as much as I did.

Even if she wouldn't admit it.

"Exactly," I said. "You really put the wallop on him, you know?"

Clare flushed. "He was just so...awful," she muttered. "I couldn't help myself!"

I shot her a wicked grin. "_Now _who's the one saving the day?"

Clare chuckled and shook her head. "Touche."

Throwing my magazine aside, I sat up and faced her. She looked prettier than usual today- there was a nip in the air and her cheeks had a rosy hue, making her look more like a cherub than a teenaged girl. Her turqouise tunic and jeans were complimentary, making her eyes seem almost magnetic and I found myself completely at their mercy. Nibbling her lower lip, Clare's expression was expectant- she always gave me the same shy look- and a familiar lurch in my stomach reconfirmed my intentions.

I wanted her.

I wanted to feel her lips against mine, to smooth my hands over her soft skin, to hear the tiny gasp she made whenever I kissed that spot below her ear. I leaned forward and Clare blinked in recognition, tilting her head as she met my lips.

Christ I love kissing this girl... Clare was pretty damn talented on all fronts but, when it came to kissing, she was masterful. At first, she'd been a little shy- hesitant, modest even- but, as time went on, she had gotten more comfortable with me...and that was when I'd made a marvelous discovery.

Clare was a _Siren_.

Beneath all that sweet innocence there was a temptress just waiting to be unleashed. I knew it sounded cliche- the typical 'it's always the quiet ones'- but where Clare was concerned, I actually understood what it meant. It wasn't that she got overly racey- this _was _Clare, after all- but there was this deep seeded passion that seemed to explode everytime we were even remotely intimate. Electricity, charge, spark- call it what you will- Clare's kisses were _fucking wired_.

We broke apart, both gasping for breath. She was flushed, her hair was a mess, and her lips were swollen. She looked like she had just taken a tumble in a nice big bed. I ignored the stiffening below my belt and ran my hand along her cheek.

"Such a little vamp," I breathed, my tone affectionate but playful.

She swatted my arm, her face growing more red. "I thought I was an ingenue!"

I chuckled at her jab. She absolutely hated the original character I'd come up with for one of our English assignments.

Clara Edwin.

Now there was a vixen. I really couldn't help myself- writing about Clare had turned into some dark, sordid fantasy. Gangsters, flappers, and prohibition- Ms. Edwin was a demure but slightly tainted cigarette girl who worked in a speak easy owned by her on again, off again lover, Kingston C. Flowers (Boss K.C. for short). Naturally, she falls in love with the cunning and devilishly handsome, E. Linus, an undercover agent for the FBI. I'll admit, I may have gone a little too far with the whole K.C. thing but it had been more to tease her than anything else. If I had known that he had hurt her, I never would have put him in the story to begin with.

But she was over him now and I was lucky to be part of the reason.

Peeking at her from beneath my lashes, I wondered how anyone could give up someone so amazing. Clare was the most perfect girl I had ever known. Jenna Middleton couldn't even compare to her classic beauty...or her stimulating intellect.

I slipped my hand into her tiny one and smiled at the ideal fit- it was almost as if Clare had been made for me. Everything about us was aligned- our bodies, our personalities- we were two sides to one entity. I found it slightly disorienting. The girl had turned my life upside down in a matter of months...and it was all for the better. I sighed in contentment, thoughts of a lifetime with Clare pivoting through my head. _Mrs. Clare Goldsworthy..._

I blinked as I caught that last thought and nearly smacked myself in the forehead. _What the hell is happening to me?_

Clare was the most adorable girl I'd ever known, but the more time I spent with her the more I began to notice a change in my inner monologue. I was turning into a goddamn, walking Hallmark card! This would not do. I loved Clare but I was not about to trade in my skulls and gothic apparel for a rainbow cardigan and fuzzy, pink bunny slippers.

I shuddered- the thought made me more than a little squeamish.

When I met Clare she knew exactly what I was into and she didn't bat an eye. I wanted to continue this upward spiral, this journey in self-healing, but I didn't want to change who I was at heart. Although a relationship was about being a unit, it was also about being individual. It was balance. A person couldn't lose themselves just because they were in love. Retaining individual spirit was just as important because that's what the other person fell for to begin with!

And I was Eli...a sweet yet snarky guy who liked poetry, punk, and pretty eyes.

That said, I found myself wanting to do something edgy, maybe even a little illegal. Not something that would hurt anyone, of course, but something to harden the drippy, sentimental nancy boy I was turning into.

Biting my lip, I pondered the possibilities. Alexisonfire would be at The Drake this weekend- I could take Adam with me, blow off some steam. It'd be like rebooting my hard drive- nothing like a little punk rock to wet my whistle...and brew, of course. I reached down, fingering my wallet absently. When considering a night out with friends, having a fake ID really came in handy.

"Eli, are you okay?" Clare's sweet voice grated against my rebellious thoughts.

I looked up. "I'm fine," I assured her.

She raised a brow. "Mm-hmm, I've seen _that _look before."

"What look?" I deadpanned.

"The look that says 'I'm scheming now leave me alone'," she rejoined with a knowing grin.

I lifted my chin. "I've know idea what you're talking about..."

"Planning a night of harmless pranks with our dear Adam, are we?"

My mouth fell open and Clare gave me a smug smile. I narrowed my eyes- the girl was too smart for her own good.

"Just promise me one thing," she said. Her amusement ebbed and she gave me a serious look.

"What's that?"

"Promise you won't drive if you've been drinking," she pleaded.

I blinked. That was _it_? No third degree? No fretting over what we'd be doing? I couldn't believe it- I had the coolest girlfriend known to man! I gazed at her, a smile tugging at my lips. It was surprising...so surprising, in fact, that I completely forgot that Clare was expecting an answer.

She frowned. "Is that so much to ask?"

I shook my head quickly. "No...no, sorry," I stammered, sounding like a fool, "I promise."

Clare bit her lip in amusement. "Were you expecting something else?" she asked.

I flushed at her ability to nail me in one. "Er, well...kind of, yeah..." I admitted.

She smirked- and it looked scarily like my signature expression. "Probably thought I was going to pester you with questions, didn't you Eli?"

I crossed my arms over my chest in a pout. "Did not."

Clare giggled and then leaned forward. "Looks like _you're _the one caught with your pants down this time," she whispered, sliding a hand up over my knee.

My eyes widened. I looked down at her hand and then back up at her. That's when she burst into laughter.

"You should see the look on your face!" she cried, rolling onto her side.

"You little tease!" I cried and began to tickle her mercilessly.

I set out to get my payback and, boy did I. By the time I was through with her, Clare could hardly breathe she was laughing so hard. In the end, she submitted to me- as I knew she would- and I got another kiss out of the deal. I stole it, of course, but Clare had just begun to reciprocate when...

"Don't you two _ever _worry about mono?"

Pulling away from Clare I looked up at Adam and shook my head. She was right- the kid had a knack for interrupting at the most inopportune times.

"Hey man," I said, scooting next to my girlfirend, who was blushing furiously.

Ever since Simpson had caught us making out after school she'd been leary about kissing in public- this had likely just reaffirmed her reservations. I threw an arm around her shoulder and gave her a little squeeze. She smiled up at me in appreciation.

Adam flopped down in the grass and put his chin in his hand. "Sup?"

Clare chuckled, like she always did when Adam greeted us. "Not much, what took you so long?" she asked.

"I didn't want to intrude on your private time," he replied, scratching up under his beanie. "Clearly _that _was a bust."

I snorted at his sarcasm. "Listen, what do you say we have a Guy's Night tomorrow? Alexisonfire is at-"

"The Drake!" Adam popped up onto his knees, excitement clear on his face.

"Yeah," I rejoined with a smirk. "What do you think?"

"I think hell yes!" he cried and then frowned. Turning to Clare he gave her a sheepish look. "Um...are you..."

Clare held up a hand. "Have a great time," she replied.

Adam launched himself at her and they toppled over backwards, laughing. I raised my brows as I watched my girlfriend and my best friend hug. Hug over me. The concept was hard to wrap my head around. Just six months ago my life had been a hollow shell- no friends, no family- nothing at all. And now, here I was- in love with a gorgeous girl, friends with a loyal guy, and filling in the gaping hole between me and my father. A wide smile split my face as I realized...

Life couldn't be better.


	15. Chapter 15

The next day, I stood in the middle of my bedroom, chewing my thumbnail while trying to decide what the hell I should wear to the Alexisonfire show. Peering down at the three outfits I'd pulled out of my cluttered closet- all black, ripped, and somewhat metallic- I wondered which looked the least 'soft'. Admittedly, I was still a little hung up on the whole 'pansy in paisley' image I'd suffered through yesterday. The notion had practically given me night terrors. In retrospect, I felt a little asinine- for a self-proclaimed horror buff, it seemed I'd found the one thing that scared me shitless- and it was surprisingly tame compared to the slasher flicks I liked to frequent. Visions of sweater vests, polo clubs, and High Tea danced through my head like a trio of macabre ballerinas. I was running from a flock of demented black swans. Cocking my head, I surmised that I might be going a bit overboard- Clare was hardly an uptight prep- but I figured using the most converse example would give me some incentive to really make tonight count. Because, when all was said and done, tonight was about laying waste to that idea.

And about getting wast_ed_.

Selecting the darkest of the three ensembles- skinny jeans, my infamous _Cancer Bats_ tee, and a holey, black military jacket I'd bartered off a homeless guy- I threw a quick look in the mirror and smirked. _Not bad..._

I ran a hand through my hair and noticed that it had grown a lot. The tips were well past the edge of my collar but, I liked it this length. Leanng towards my reflection, my signature expression spread into a wide grin as I thought about Clare. She liked my hair this length, too- it was easier for her to get her fingers into. I shifted as I felt that familiar stirring below the waist. The thought of Clare's small hands tugging at my locks made me, and my body, wish she was here- preferabely in my bed, wearing something itty bitty. _Good God, Eli...get a hold of yourself! _

I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face. My head was not in the right place, especially for guy's night. The last thing I needed to be thinking about was my girlfriend sprawled in my bed, clad in a black corset, thigh highs, and...

_Argh!_I glared at the ceiling in aggravation. Clare was going to be the fucking death of me.

Glancing into the mirror, I turned my head and scrutinized my profile. All of my bruises had faded but I still had a gnarly looking gash under my left eye. It had scabbed over for the most part but it was still noticeable. Personally, I thought it made me look tough, like Damage from the Freedom Fighters. Settling back, I gave myself one last scan before taking a peek at my watch.

_Shit!_Adam and I had made plans to meet up at The Dot for dinner before heading to The Drake. I had exactly ten minutes to get there. Snagging my wallet off of my dresser, I shoved it into my pocket and shot out the door.

Right into a dead stop...

My father was standing just outside of my bedroom. I looked up at him, surprised to find the guy on my side of the hallway. Scanning his disheveled figure, I realized how awful he looked- his dark hair was a mess, his tie was askew, the first few buttons of his oxford were missing, and there was a large ink stain on his wrinkled khakis. I blinked, totally thrown by his less than stellar appearance.

"Eli," he said, nodding his head in an almost rueful way.

I gaped at him in astonishment.

"Well, aren't you going to tell your old man hello?" He was looking more sheepish with each passing second.

"Uh, yeah..I'm still trying to get over actual, human dialogue," I blurted out.

The cynicism was there- I couldn't help it. Things had been rough between us for a long time and my father would have to deal with the repercussions. I refused to let him into my life just because he'd decided to admit that he'd been an ass. It was going to take a while for me to re-acclimate and one, sorry father to son chat would not suffice. This wasn't parent and child discussing the birds and the bees- it was two men discussing the royally fucked up mess that was their life. That took work. In fact, both of us had a hell of a lot of work to do to cure our dysfunction...if it could be rectified at all.

Of course, he just _had _to choose tonight to initiate a bonding moment.

Blowing out a sigh, he looked down at the floor. "Look, the other night was..."

He trailed off so I picked up for him. "A total nightmare?"

His eyes flickered up towards mine. "She's your girl?" he asked.

I knew he meant Clare and for some reason, the fact that he was even talking about her made me furious. As much as I'd thought myself undeserving of Clare, I _knew _my father was. Next to her he was reprehensible. In fact, he had no business even breathing the same air she did.

"Let's just stick to what's relative, shall we?" I snapped.

"Well, if she's involved with you one would assume the topic is relative," he replied. There was no malice in his voice- he just sounded...tired.

I looked away. "Why do you care?"

"She looks so much..."

"I know, alright!" I interjected harshly. "I've already come to grips with the fact that Clare looks like mom. Was there something you wanted me to do about it?"

He threw up his hands. "Christ, Eli!" he shouted. "Just look at us! We can't even carry on a goddamn conversation without trying to rip each other apart!"

"Yeah...and whose fault is that?" I asked, a scowl pinching my face.

My father leaned back against the wall, his body sagging slightly. "I take full responsibility for my misgivings..."

I snorted. "Misgivings? What a _PC _way of putting it. That's so like you dad...you pull that out of your corporate handbook?"

"Enough, Eli," he growled. "I didn't come here to fight with you."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I smirked at him. "Then what did you come here for?"

Shifting from one foot to the other, my father suddenly looked like he'd been asked to bob for apples in a truck stop toilet. Raising a brow, I wondered what might be running through that collosal skull of his.

Clearing his throat, he lifted his chin. "I wanted to extend an olive branch," he said, blinking his bloodshot eyes. "After seeing Mer-" he paused to swallow the lump in his throat, "er, Clare, I had to face some hard memories."

I gazed at him with the same, expectant expression so he pressed on.

"And I was hoping that you might consider..." He pulled his lower lip into his mouth and ran a hand through his hair. "Counseling."

I blinked in disbelief. He had stressed that last word with such force it had sounded more like air shooting out of a compressor.

"_Counseling_?" I repeated.

He nodded.

"Are you serious?"

Again, he nodded.

Tugging on the hemline of my jacket, I thought about his offer. On the one hand, it was tempting. Regardless of all the bad blood, all the mistrust, all the turmoil, he was still my father. We were family- connected by blood and spirit- and Clare had helped me see that. I found myself wanting to believe him more than I probably should. But, on the other, I was still battling the old Eli...the one who preferred to revel in his dark prison, the one who liked the taste of threat and risk and violence. He was still alive in me, still whispering his shady, defiled thoughts into my ear. It was like having those angel and devil archetypes on each shoulder, except, in my fantasy, one looked just like me and the other looked just like Clare. I smirked at the irony of it all- my head was between two sparring foes- the middle ground, a balance of light and dark. I considered that, perhaps the answer to my questions already existed there- in _me_.

And then I thought about what I wanted.

Did I want to continue being miserable or did I want to take the leap? My whole life I'd been the dare devil, the guy who would dash barefoot across smoking coals and engage in fist fights just for the hell of it. But I had never taken risks where the heart was concerned. I'd always been too afraid, too frightened of what might happen. I guess you could say, all the 'what ifs' had obstructed any kind of movement on my part. It was comical, really. The consequence of running from love was a lack of feeling- of heartfelt emotion. But you couldn't run from love, no matter how hard you tried...because, when you did, it would manifest in other ways. In unhealthy ways. My father had run from love and it had surfaced in the form of sexual addiction. My mother had been denied love and she had suffered from alcoholism. And then there was me- always throwing caution to the wind in order to _feel_. Most of the time I labored under the idea that it was all about being careless, about not giving two shits about anything at all.

But I was wrong.

It was a vicious cycle and I was tired. With light in my life, the darkness had started to disappear and I found I liked being able to see. I could actually tell where I was going. It was a nice feeling.

Peeking up at my father, I swallowed hard. "When?"

His mouth fell open for a moment and I swear he bit back a sob. It was unnerving.

"T-tuesday," he stuttered, blinking his eyes in turn, "I set up an appointment with a family therapist for 5 o'clock."

I bent my head in concession. "I'll be there."

The corner of his mouth pulled up. "Okay, then."

There was a moment of awkward silence and we just stared at one another in speculation. This was new territory for the both of us and the entire situation was oddly surreal.

"Well, off you go," he said, stepping aside.

I shot him a sidelong glance as I moved down the hall. It was the first time I noticed how truly old my father looked. It made me realize how much he had taken on. He literally wore the stress right out in the open- it was written all over his face. Where I donned black, my father was the physical affirmation of hardship. I felt my gut clench in recognition and I turned slightly, locking onto his gaze. He flinched and began to take a step back but I caught him by the shoulder. It was a single moment of understanding, an offer of agreement between us. We didn't hug, we didn't cry and get overly sentimental, we just let the issue materialize. Because, without acknowledging that there was a problem- a raw, hardened goitre obstructing our relationship- then there was no use in trying to destroy it.

It had to be _faced_...head on.

After leaving my house, I thought about our interaction. It was progress and that was as good as it could get. My lips twitched as I turned Morty onto the main road and hauled ass over to The Dot. Life was really starting to shift and I found I liked the change.

I pulled up in front of the coffee house and saw Adam waiting outside. He had an annoyed look on his face.

"Dude, where the hell have you been?" he griped as I got out of the car. "You're like, twenty minutes late! We have roughly six minutes to eat before heading to the show."

I sighed and gave him an apologetic look. "It couldn't be helped," I replied. "My dad decided a bonding moment was in order."

Adam's eyes widened and he opened his mouth.

"Later," I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "Tonight is about blowing off some steam. The last thing I want to do is think about the mess that is my life."

Adam cocked his head. "Hmm, I don't think 'mess' is really the appropriate word. You've come a long way in the last few months, Eli."

I glanced at him and smirked, pulling open the door to The Dot. We headed over to the bar and sat down. I hailed Peter and he nodded, ambling over to take our order.

"So," I said, turning towards Adam once we'd gotten our drinks, "you down for imbibing in the libations tonight?"

Adam rolled his eyes. "Do you always have to sound like a frickin' Shakespearian sonnet?"

I chuckled and raised a brow. "Can I help it if I'm vocabularily gifted?" I shot back.

"Hate to break it to you, oh gifted one," Adam retorted. "But that ain't a word."

"Techinically, neither is 'ain't'," I countered with a smug grin. "It's colloqualism considered strictly slang- an improper contraction."

"Okay, okay..." he held up his hands in defeat, a wide grin on his face. "Hold up on the grammar lesson, already!"

Peter brought over our food- a steak sandwich for me and a chicken wrap for Adam- and we both downed it as if our lives depended on it.

"I was thinking we could cause some trouble after the show," I garbeled, my mouth full of half masticated beef.

Adam wrinkled his nose "Dude, haven't you ever heard of closing your trap while you eat? I mean, I love steak as much as the next guy but, damn!"

I snorted and nearly choked on the half of sandwich I'd stuffed in my mouth. My eyes began to water and I took a quick sip of my iced tea.

Adam smacked me on the back and shook his head. "Now let this be a lesson, Eli," he began, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips, "next time we will finish chewing our food before we attempt to address our dear friend, Adam."

I shook my head in amusement. I was beginning to understand why I enjoyed his company so much- he was as snarky as they come.

Once I had managed to swallow the quarter of cow in my gob, I continued. "I'm in a real hell raising kind of mood."

Adam raised a brow. "Oh yeah?"

I pulled a flask out of my pocket and grinned. "Yep."

He frowned. "Uh, Eli, I thought you promised Clare you wouldn't drink."

"Hence the reason for wasting time after the concert," I replied. "I figure we'll need a couple of hours to sober up."

"I don't know," Adam replied, looking a bit uncertain.

"Don't be such a prude!" I exclaimed. "This is going to be one hell of a guy's night. First The Drake and then...whatever! The possibilities are endless!"

"For two seventeen year old dudes at 2am?" Adam shot back, his tone skeptical. "Oh yeah, they're positively infinite."

I scowled at him. "Alright, numnuts, what would _you _rather do?"

Adam gripped his chin with his fingers, feigning thought. "Hmm, I guess hanging out with you is really my only option," he ribbed. "Drew's out with Alli and Clare isn't a guy, so..."

Pulling my arm back, I punched him square in the shoulder. "Fun_ny_," I snapped, my tone sarcastic.

He rubbed his shoulder. "Hey, I may be a guy between the ears but I'm still somewhat female on the outside. Take it easy on the goods."

I chuckled and threw my napkin onto my plate. "You done?"

Adam nodded and we both got up, throwing down a bill for our meals. Loping towards the entrance, I gave him a pointed look. "So, we'll be running rampant after The Drake, then?"

Adam nodded, a sly grin spreading over his face. "If I can handle Fitz, I think I can handle whatever you might have up your sleeve, Eli."

I smiled and we bumped fists. It was good to have a loyal friend and I planned to have a damn good time tonight.

Slipping through the door, we headed over to my car, completely unaware that the man in question- Mark Fitzgerald- was seated a table away...and had heard every last word we said.


	16. Chapter 16

_Alexisonfire_ was off the fucking chain.

Adam and I arrived at The Drake at half past nine, thirty minutes after the show was supposed to start. Luckily, the opening act had run long and the band had just taken the stage as we entered the venue. The place was packed to the gills- an ocean of ink and silver as far as the eye could see. It was a preternatural Valhalla and I felt right at home. In fact, next to some of the punks who were milling around, I could be considered 'normal'. Indeed, the guy next to me- sporting an eight inch, purple hawk and the biggest septum ring I'd ever seen- made me look like a _complete _pantywaist.

Never mind how he made Adam look...

It was clear that the show was sold out. It took us at least thirty minutes just to get a spot at the bar and, by the time we finally made it to the counter, the band was halfway through its first set. I bobbed my head, mouthing the words to Heading for the Sun while I waited for the bartender to bring me my drink. Adam was squeezed in next to me, fisting the air like an audience member at an Arsenio Hall show. I chuckled, amused by how loose he looked...how free. It made me glad we decided to hit The Drake. After all the bullshit- my dad, the struggles leading up to my union with Clare, and, of course, that not so little wrinkle known as Mark Fitzgerald- I had desperately needed to get the hell out.

_Resentful minds have ruled to long. You and old, weak and strong..._

The music was like balm to my blistered soul. I was so lost in the ripping lyrics and hard guitar riffs, I barely noticed anything else at all. That is, until a loud whistle caught my attention. I turned around, a curious expression on my face. The bartender, a tiny, Oriental girl in a blood red corset, was looking at me expectantly. She held a large, amber drink in one hand, waggling it back and forth in a playful manner.

I smiled. _Ah, my grog..._

Leaning forward, I took the Red Bull and vodka from her hand. Her fingers brushed against mine as she passed me the cup and I glanced down, brows pulled together in question. Leveling my gaze, I saw that she wore quite the smoldering look. I couldn't help but smirk- apparently, I'd made an impression. Shaking my head, I pointed to my chest and mouthed the words "taken". The bartender was cute, I'd give her that, but she was no match for Clare. _She's not even in the same hemisphere as Clare..._

The girl blinked, clearly surprised by my direct response. But, as the shock wore off (I assumed she wasn't used to getting turned down), a soft smile spread over her face. "No charge!" she yelled over the din.

I raised a brow. "_What_?"

Leaning forward, she crooked her finger, beckoning me closer. I bent over the bar, a bit suspicious of her motives- the last thing I wanted was a drink over my head.

"It's not often I get such a loyal guy," she said, her voice husky but sincere. "Whoever she is, she's damn lucky." With that, she spun around and stalked over to the other end of the bar.

I was pretty sure I looked like a total candy-ass, staring after her with a goofy grin on my face. All this feminine influence was really starting to wreak havoc on my rep! Turning around, I screwed on my signature expression and leaned back against the counter. Adam was looking at me, waering the smuggest grin I had ever seen. It seemed he'd witnessed the entire exchange and the look on his face was fucking priceless. Chuckling, I downed the drink in my hand and tossed the cup on the bar behind me.

He gaped at me with wide eyes.

"What is it?" I screamed, trying to overpower the music that shook the room.

"You're a madman!" he bellowed, gesturing to my now empty cup.

I raised my brows. "All in a day's work!" I shouted. Looking out over the dance floor, I nodded my head. "Shall we?"

"What?" Adam turned his ear towards me and I snorted.

"Come on!" I barked, tugging at the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

The Drake Underground was the premiere venue in downtown Toronto. It was home to a host of indie rock bands and had featured some of Canada's biggest artists, as demonstrated by the five man band currently on stage. Large and dark, the room was just big enough to house a sizeable crowd but the set was modular, making it lower than the ones you'd see in a stadium or concert hall. In my humble opinion, that was what made The Drake so damn appealing. The band was in your face and, being that this was Alexisonfire, it was a full on, 3D experience- complete with spit, sweat, blood, and tears. The guys were amping up the base, pulling line for line, and two huge projector screens on either side of the stage played a slideshow of pictures- from impoverished youths squatting in condemned buildings to corporate clipped idealists gnoshing their gourmet goods. A thick, dark red curtain served as a backdrop for the band and the lights beamed down on them as they moved in time to the hard, calloused beat.

Adam followed me out onto the dance floor, where a mosh pit had started to form. I watched the throng of ruffians, skaters, boneheads, and straight edgers bounce around like a bunch of primates. They slammed into each other, some falling to the ground, others ricocheting off one person into the next. It was like watching a life-sized game of pinball. I stood on the edge of the pit, my body buzzing with anticipation. I had a feeling that part of it had to do with the cocktail I'd just ingested- the mixture of stimulant and depressant an interesting albeit welcome elixir. One would think the two would cancel each other out but, it actually made me feel great. The sluggish affect of the vodka was nothing when combined with the Red Bull- like a crimson bovine swatting a fly. In fact, I think I enjoyed the wired feeling more than I probably should have.

As if reading each other's minds, Adam and I looked at one another- identical grins on our faces. With a simultaneous nod, we turned back to the crowd and plowed right in.

Whoo, boy- there was nothing like a good mosh pit.

Well, maybe some things might compare. Like sex with Clare, for instance. I had a feeling it would knock moshing down a good twenty paces but, I couldn't think about that right now. The only thing on my mind was trying to survive a plethora of human battering rams, smacking me at every turn. It was like an endless wrestling match with a hundred different opponents and my heart, along with my five senses, were going off in a solid, rhythmic pulse. It matched the music and I put my arms up over my head and jumped around like a maniac- enjoying the absolute autonomy the experience had given me.

_God, I love this shit!_I looked up and guffawed when I saw Adam sailing past, surfing the crowd like Norrin Radd. All he needed was his silver board and he'd be set. Shaking my head, I looked back just in time to miss a huge body soaring towards me. Jumping sideways, I landed in a less populated area of the pit and decided to make good use of the moment. Slipping the flask from my pocket, I dumped its contents into my mouth, draining it with a few good pulls, and then it was back into the throng...

Three hours, and several drinks later, the band finally played its last encore. Overall, the night had been damn cool. At one point, I had even gotten thrown on stage and George Pettit had let me scream into the mic. Christ, had that been a rush- especially with the whole room banging out with head or fist, shouting right along with you. It was like a co-op of roughneck assholes, screaming their issues to the world. Nothing could equal that kind of brotherhood.

"This is from our hearts, and it's been right from the start, there's fire in my guts that you just can't put out. Alright!" I shouted, buzzed from head to toe as Adam pulled me out of the club.

We stumbled sideways a bit, my head lulling as we made our way down the street towards Morty. I was no where near as thrashed as I had been the other night but I was still feeling good, that was for damn sure. We stopped to wait for a traffic light to change and I ran a hand through my hair. In hindsight, it was a good thing I didn't feel the way I had the night I'd hurt Clare.

_Clare_.

_My _Clare.

My _gorgeous, tenacious, snarky_, little Clare.

My _Siren _Clare.

Adam shook his head and laughed. "Dude, I realize that Clare is yours, but...is she aware of all these adjectives?"

I blinked. _Crap, did I just say that out loud?_

"No and you'd better not open your trap, Torres," I warned.

"Gee Eli, you're so scary when your threatening that light pole!" he cried in mock horror.

I squinted and kicked the pole beside me. So maybe I was a little more wasted than I had let on.

"You know, your damn lucky I like you," I muttered.

"Give me your keys, Eli," Adam said, holding out a hand. "I'll DD for your dumb ass."

I slipped him the keys and he dragged me the rest of the way. Falling into Morty's comfortable seat, I snuggled into the worn vinyl and snapped the belt over my lap. Adam slid in beside me and turned the ignition. It roared to life and I silently thanked whatever God might be looking down on us.

"Where to?" he asked.

My head rolled to the side. "Oh, I don't know," I tapped my chin with a finger, "Clare's house?"

Adam cocked a brow. "_Seriously_? What happened to beating the streets?" he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

I gave a non-commital shrug.

"Can't even go one day without seeing her, can you?" he ribbed.

I narrowed my eyes. "It's past midnight so, technically, it's been a whole day."

He snorted. "Right...speaking of, how do you intend to get her outside at this hour?"

I shot him a sly grin. "Oh, I have my ways..."

He rolled his eyes. "Look, do you mind if I head home from there? I'm in no mood to watch the two of you tangle tongues."

I nodded mutely, the image of kissing Clare consuming all other thought. I loved the feel of her lips on mine, the way they moved over my mouth in a sensual dance. And her tongue...Good God, did the woman know how to use that thing! I noted how unfair it was that she couldn't share such talent with the world. But there was no way in hell I would let that happen. I was privileged on that front, no doubt about it.

Adam pulled a quick u-turn and we rolled out onto Queen Street West, headed towards Clare's place. The trip was short- her house wasn't far from the school and the school was close to downtown Toronto- so it couldn't have been more than ten minutes, tops. As we turned onto her street, I instructed Adam to turn off the lights and pull up in front of the houseacross the street. I had done this just last week- a small drainpipe ran along the back corner of Clare's townhouse and I'd shimmied up it onto the balcony next to her room. Of course, it had scared Clare shitless and she tried to beat the crap out of me, but...I figured the blows would hurt less tonight due to the alcoholic haze I resided in.

Turning towards me, Adam gave me a questioning look. "So, you think you're okay to drive home later?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine, man," I replied, grabbing his shoulder. "Thanks for carting my ass here."

Adam nodded. "Yep," he opened the door, "and thanks for tonight. It was damn cool! Oh, and tell Clare I said 'Yo!'"

I snorted. "You got it."

He tossed me the keys and headed down the street in the direction of his house. It wasn't too far of a walk so I felt okay with letting him go. Besides, it was a suburban area- rarely any ruffians about.

Skulking down the back alley, I glanced up and squinted. There was a light flashing in Clare's room- she must be watching television. I peeked at my watch and shook my head. It was just past one in the morning- the girl was a _total _insomniac.

Mounting the drainpipe, I balanced my feet on the little brackets holding it to the wall. I looked up and my vision wavered, making me feel a bit lightheaded. I surmised that this might be a little harder than it looked. With a deep breath, I began to climb, keeping a death grip on the spout. I managed to make it halfway up with no probelm, however, as I neared the balcony I began to wonder just how in hell I'd slipped onto it last time. There was a good two foot gap between the terrace and the drainpipe, which meant I would have to hop off the wall onto the verenda! This made me nervous- I was no Spiderman. Blinking, I leaned sideways and tried to gain leverage by grabbing hold of the railing. It didn't quite work out the way I expected. My foot slipped off the bracket and down I went. By sheer luck, I snagged the balcony footer, holding on by a single hand. I swung back and forth like a spider monkey, trying to catch hold of the pipe beside me. But it was too damn far for me to reach.

And then I heard a sound that made my gut clench- someone opened a door below me.

"Eli, what on earth are you _doing_?"

The most beautiful voice in the world was hissing at me in displeasure. I couldn't care less that she was mad- as long as she kept talking. Clare's voice was like molten lava- burning my insides, it leached down into my lower half and made me want to do things, sordid things, to her delectable body. _Wow, she's really turning me into a sexual deviant! _

Her tiny hands grabbed hold of my ankles. "You're lucky my parents didn't hear you!" she snapped quietly.

"And how is it that you heard me, dollface?" I replied, smirking. Off hand, I noted it probably didn't do much good since sll she could see was the back of my head.

"Eli, you shrieked like a girl right outside my bedroom window!" she shot back in a whisper. "Of course I heard you!" Heaving a sigh, she tightened her grip on my feet. "Do you think you can let go?"

"I'll try," I rejoined.

With a shakey breath, released my grip on the balcony. The fall was shorter than I expected and, as feet met pavement, I staggered backwards. Clare and I tumbled to the ground, landing in quite the compromising position. Her arms were around my waist from behind and I was tucked between her legs- we probably looked like a couple of Canadian bobsledders. Looking down, I noticed that her nightgown and short robe were riding up, exposing her middle thigh. My eyes widened in excitement and an odd choking sound spilled out of me as my hand slid over her silky skin. _Good God, even her fucking knee is soft!_

"_Eli_!" Clare scolded, slapping me on the arm. I could practically hear the blush in her voice.

I pivoted my body, a brow raised in challenge. "_Yes_?" I drawled, sliding my hand further up her leg.

She gasped and began babbling incoherently. "What are you...Eli, it's after...my parents could come out...you need to...I..."

"Clare," I said, leaning torwards her with intention.

"Y-yes?" She blinked up at me with those big blue eyes.

_"Shut up."_

My lips crashed into hers and we fell over backwards. Luckily, Clare had landed a bit sideways and the wall was just behind her. We leaned against it, my upper body pressed against her chest, Clare's arms winding around my neck. My hand was now up under her robe and I squeezed her thigh while exploring her mouth with my tongue. The tiny whimper I'd grown so accustomed to bubbled up from the back of her throat, unleashing something inside of me. I growled and scooted further between her legs. Her body was so goddamn soft...and warm. She was supple, pliant- the embodiment of feminine perfection- and my hands were fucking _everywhere_.

Kissing along her jawline, I nipped at her skin, and Clare's breathing hitched. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, even pants, drawing my attention to the more endowed parts of her body. Looking down, I saw that her robe had fallen open, showing off the baby doll nightie she wore underneath. Naturally, it was solid white, with a tiny, pink bow between her lissome breasts.

An evil bow.

A nefarious bow.

A vindictive, demonic bow from hell.

The fucking thing was taunting me, daring me to pull down that bodice and get acquainted with Clare's naked skin. I wanted to rip it off just so it would stop its relentless teasing but, it seemed Clare was way ahead of me. Pushing halfheartedly against my shoulders, she breathed in and shook her head.

"Eli, we can't do this here!" she admonished.

"Then let's go up to your room," I purred, running my tongue down the long column of her neck.

Clare moaned, half in exhiliration and half in aggravation. "I can't," she said, pushing me away from her completely. "If my parents catch me sneaking you through the house they'd flip. I'd never be allowed to see you again. Is that what you want?"

My head snapped up. Clare looked into my eyes, her bright blue gaze sealing the deal.

"_Hell _no." I ran a hand through my disheveled hair and slid backwards. Leaning against the wall across from her, I smirked. "But that was fun while it lasted."

Clare blushed as she smoothed her robe. "It _was _rather...enjoyable," she admitted, peeking up at me from beneath her lashes.

I chuckled. "It was better than that and you know it."

Lifting her chin, Clare crossed her arms. "I never kiss and tell," she shot back.

Smiling, I pushed myself off the ground and lent her a hand. Pulling her up, I wrapped my arm around her waist and raised my brows in amusement.

"Good to know," I said, "I'd hate to hear how you really feel from that hellion friend of yours."

Clare frowned. "Hellion friend?" she paused and then smirked at me in reproach. "You mean _Allie_?"

"One in the same, lady."

Rolling her eyes, she swatted my shoulder. "Very funny. Speaking of hellion- I thought you said you wouldn't drink tonight!"

"Adam drove me here," I said quickly, not wanting to upset her.

Clare leaned sideways. "You didn't leave him in the car?"

I snorted. "Nah, he was sick of watching us make out so he headed home."

"At this hour! Eli, he could run into some hooligan!"

I smirked at her worried expression. Clare was the most loyal friend a person could have.

"I think he can make it home alright," I ribbed, "even on this side of the tracks."

Huffing, she stomped her foot. "Even drunk you're a pain in the ass!"

I gasped, clutching my chest in feigned horror. "Clare Edwards...cursed?" I teased. "Has hell frozen over?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Eli Goldsworthy, you better quit while your ahead!"

"Alright, alright," I replied, giving her a wide grin. "I'm sorry."

"Hmmph." She looked away from me.

"Clare's still displeased?" I tightened my hold on her. "Whatever can I do to make it up to her?"

A small smile tugged at her lips and she peered up at me in diffidence. "Well, you could take me to a movie tomorrow," she said.

I raised my brows. "You're not going to make me go see _Eat Pray Love_, are you?"

Shifting on her feet, she looked down, giving herself away. "Well, I heard it was good..."

I snorted and ran a hand along her back. "I'm just kidding Clare!" I assured. "I'd go see _Endless Love _if you asked me to."

Blushing, she nibbled her lower lip. "_Really_?"

I swallowed hard, loving the coy little look she was giving me. _Dammit, how does this girl manage to turn me into a pile of mush with a mere bat of her eyes?_

"Yes, really," I replied. "Now, I think it's time for you to get to bed, milady."

Clare nodded and then stood up on her tiptoes. "But not without a good night kiss first," she said.

I smiled and bent down, brushing my lips against hers. It was decidedly chaste compared to our earlier session but it still managed to be just as thrilling. If there was one thing I'd learned about Clare, it was that everything she did drove me completely wild.

We parted and I practically skipped down the alley. When I got to the end of her driveway, I turned to see her leaning out of the side door, watching me. She gave me a shy little wave and then ducked into the house. I chuckled to myself- the girl had me wrapped around her little finger. Sighing, I turned around and began to make my way over to Morty.

And that's when it happened.

A large van screeched to a halt in front of me. The side door slid open and a pair of large, calloused hands gripped the collar of my jacket, pulling me inside. I struggled against my perpetrator but it was no use- they were too strong. As my body was flung into the vehicle, another person clamped my hands behind my back and held tight. The other guy closed the door and the van shot down the street, tires squealing the whole way. I tried like hell to get out of the guy's grip but my shoulders were beginning to feel like they'd been ripped from their sockets.

"What the fuck is this?" I demanded.

"Did you enjoy your kiss, Eli?"

The back of the van was dark but I knew that voice, knew it only too well. My stomach began to churn as fear and anger boiled up inside of me.

"Sure hope you did," Fitz continued when I refused to reply. "Because it was your very last."


	17. Chapter 17

I was dreaming. I had to be. There was no way in hell I'd gotten mixed up with a harrowing criminal. I knew Fitz- he was all talk- he might be violent but he would never do anything remotely fatal.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself...

But looking at him now- wild eyed and almost manic- I could tell he was a few cards short of a full deck...possibly even high. My vision had acclimated to the van's dark interior and I could see that Fitz was having trouble controlling his motor functions. His face twitched, his body seemed to quiver with an odd tick, and he was grinding his teeth- it wasn't normal. I couldn't see the guy behind me so I had no idea if he was also out to lunch, all I could do was assume. And my assumptions were telling me that Fitz and his boys had dabbled in the narcotics. Even in my semi-drunken state, I was well aware of the detrimental affects this situation could have.

And it made me damn nervous.

"Why so quiet, Eli?" Fitz barked, his rough voice echoing through the back of the van.

It made me flinch and his friend guffawed behind me. "I think he's scared, man."

Fitz smirked. "He should be."

There it was- a veiled threat that pointed to something negative, something terminal. My heart started to pound in my chest, my stomach was twisting in knots, and the same image kept replaying in my head: Clare gazing up at me with those big, blue eyes, asking me to take her to a movie. I'd promised her that I would.

But now I wondered if I would ever make it.

"I'm actually surprised," Fitz continued, pulling an item from the pocket of his coat. "No annoying smirk, no snarky ass comments...you're making this way too easy for me."

I swallowed hard as he turned the metal implement over in his hands.

A _gun_. A goddamn gun.

My eyes darted between his sneering face and the weapon in his grip. It was then that I realized I'd never really known Fitz- I only knew what I'd seen at school, a public setting maintained by authority figures. But here, now, there was no one to regulate his behavior, he could do whatever the hell he wanted...and get away with it, too.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he pointed the gun in my face. "Did you actually think this was over, freak? That I would let you waltz in and steal Clare away from me?" he asked, tone laced with warped delight.

I clenched my jaw. _Steal Clare away from him? Is he living in some kind of dream world?_

"Well you were wrong."

He cocked and uncocked the hammer, enjoying every minute of my mental torture. Fitz had intention- a will to dominate others- and he relished the power with his entire person. Off hand, I noted how ridiculous it was, how artificial. The only thing that gave him power was the weapon in his hand- it wasn't real control- it was all an illusion. Hell, I could be cowering in front of an unloaded pistol...or a complete pussy who wouldn't hurt a fly. It was a gamble- a total crap shoot- and I was the one making the bet.

I looked past the barrel, not two inches from my head, and glared at him. "And this is, what, a way to scare me?" I was trying to be covert with my interrogation, skirting the real question...

Are you gonna use that gun, Fitz?

He bared his teeth. "Think of this as..." he paused, the gun in his hand never wavering, "...an insurance policy. You see, I want Clare and I'm not about to let some snot-nosed, gothic bitch ruin that."

I shook my head in exasperation. "But she doesn't even like you!"

"Yes she does," he shot back, tightening his hold on the grip. "She just doesn't know it yet."

I knew it was stupid but I couldn't help it- I laughed at him. It was just another time I wished I had Clare's control.

He shoved the end of the pistol against my head and growled. "Laugh all you want, Eli...Clare. Is. _Mine_."

I blinked at the crazed look in his eye. Fitz's pupils were positively _HUGE _and I leaned back a bit, frightened by the sudden shift in his demeanor...and even more frightened that it centered on Clare.

"I'm the one who knows everything about her," he rambled, his eyes unfocused and slightly glazed, "I know that she likes White Tea with a touch of honey, that her favorite food is tacos, that she loves vampire novels but her favorite book is Jane Eyre...I know that she walks to school two days a week and bikes the rest, I know that she goes to church every Sunday, always dressed in those innocent, little skirt sets..."

Staring at his boots, I gritted my teeth, unsure if he was trying to bait me or if he was really that sadistic. Whichever it was, I didn't care- he was pissing me the fuck off.

"And, of course, there's her nightly routine," he added, his voice thick with inuendo.

My head snapped up and I gaped at him. _Nightly routine?_He couldn't mean...he hasn't been...

"You should see her, Eli," he said, a wily smirk on his face. "The way she looks before she goes to bed- tiny, white nightie, hair messed, cheeks flushed from scrubbing- looking like she just got nailed nice and hard..."

He took pleasure in my astonishment, I could see it in his eyes. As my mouth fell open and my eyes widened, a small flicker of satisfaction flashed over his face. The bile rose in my throat at the thought of Fitz spying on her through a window. Naked, half naked, even Clare in a fucking turban- every image made my blood boil. I wanted to rip my hands free and bash his goddamn head in.

But there was still the issue of the gun in my face.

"The way I see it," he went on, completely unfazed by my anger, "she'll figure out how much she needs me once _you're _out of the picture."

Fitz slipped the chamber out of the side of the gun and snapped it back in, a feral grin tugging at his lips. In, out, in, out- he was toyng with me...and it was working. My mouth had gone dry and I fought to keep from outright shaking. The entire situation made me want to curl up in a ball and forget the world.

"So," he began, clicking the barrel a sixth time, "I've decided to remedy the problem..."

The guy behind me laughed. "A little entertainment, eh Fitzy!"

"Hell yeah," he replied and turned towards the driver. "The Ravine."

The driver looked back- I recognized him as one of Fitz's loyal henchmen. "Bianca said there's a party out there tonight," he stressed. "You sure you want to risk it?"

"Take the back way, down by the water," Fitz rejoined. "If anybody asks, we went out to blaze up."

He nodded and made the next left.

I had been to The Ravine a couple of times since moving here- once with Clare and Adam to burn what was left of 'Gracie' Torres. It was located directly behind the school and considered the place to party...if you were Fitz or Bianca or one of their mindless acquaintances. The people who frequented The Ravine cared more about killing braincells than keeping them.

The van began to bounce around as we rolled onto a dirt road- likely the one that wound around the backside of Degrassi Community School. It was one of two ways to get there. The other was by foot- a cut in the fence near student parking. We drove about half a mile before the van came to a stop and the driver shifted it into park. Turning in his seat, he looked directly at me, an amused expression on his face.

I scowled back at him in irritation.

"Ready, freak?" Fitz asked, leaning forward and nudging me with the muzzle.

"Now _there's _a question," I snapped. "What exactly should I be ready for?" I was over his cryptic crap- it was almost as if he were dragging this shit out on purpose.

"Why, my favorite party game," he replied, voice curdeled with mock innocence. "Call it Spin the Barrel." He waggled his eyebrows and smirked, body thrumming with excitement. "One gun, one bullet, six chambers...definitely not for the faint of heart..."

"Then I guess you won't be playing, will you?" I retorted.

He reached out, snagged the front of my coat, and pulled me forward. "I think it's time we shut that mouth once and for all," he snarled. Yanking open the door with one hand, he dragged me out with the other. "Come on boys!"

My feet slid out of the van and hit the ground with a thud! I stumbled as Fitz kept moving, trying to get my bearings as he lugged me foward. His friends followed as we headed for the small tributary that flowed out of The Ravine and into the Don River. Usually, the gulley was dry but we'd had a lot of rain recently and the channel at the bottom had been pretty full the last I saw it. My mind was racing- why was he taking me to the water? Was he going to shoot me and dump me in the river? Was he going to hit me over the head with that gun and then toss me in? It was distressing- my legs couldn't keep up with Fitz's able stride and my thoughts couldn't keep up with my chaotic emotions.

"This won't do you any good," I rasped, staggering behind my captor. "No matter what you do to me, Clare will _never _like you."

Snorting, Fitz glanced over his shoulder. "That's what _you _think."

We came to a stop, just before the opening to the gulley, and he pushed me towards the edge. I slid to a halt, a foot shy of the opening, and scrambled backwards on my butt. Laughing, the trio of apes kicked sand at me and I shielded my face with a hand, pushing up off the ground to face them.

They surrounded me, making a semi-circle. With my back to the culvert I had no where to run.

"So..." Fitz began, "who wants to go first?"

"I will," the driver said, stepping forward. His tall, lanky frame loomed over me as he took the gun out of Fitz's hand. Ironically, he was dressed in black, and his long, pale face looked goulish in the moonlight. Lifting the gun, his boney fingers spun the barrel and a wide smile split his face.

I couldn't begin to explain how it felt, standing at the opposite end of a seemingly loaded weapon. It was...surreal, dreamlike, and an odd thought process cycled through my head- a series of options that materialized from thin air.

_Run, dive, jump, fight, beg, grovel, live, die... _

My entire body was frozen in a mixture of fear and anticipation. It was a vicious holding pattern and only the sound of a firing gun could snap me from my motionless stupor. I was vaguely aware that two elements controlled my fate- luck and choice. Luck would decide if the bullet landed in the chamber and choice lay with the man holding the gun. However, as the seconds ticked past, I began to realize that, in the long run, choice was the be all, end all. Luck only mattered if the guy decided to pull the trigger- it was secondary, a Lieutenant Governor- and would only come into play if the wrong choice was made.

_Fanfuckingtastic..._My fate was in the hands of a man I hardly knew...a man who pointed the gun at me now because his friend had asked him to do it. Seemed kind of lame, murder at the behest of someone else. Of course, the stimulant running through his veins probably didn't help. I figured it was a rush, the gamble, and that it only increased his high.

"Later freak," he drawled, fingering the trigger.

I closed my eyes and threw my hands over my face, expecting the absolute worst.

_CLICK..._

Up til now, I'd thought Clare's voice the most beautiful sound in the world. But here, it couldn't possibly compare to the click of an unloaded barrel. I didn't realize that I had dropped to the ground until I felt the soil against my face...in my mouth...up my nose. It was gritty and coarse- its scent and taste completely welcome because I was actually _alive_.

My three captors were howling. "Not so tough now, are you Eli?" Fitz drawled, taking the gun and passing it to his other friend.

The guy took it willingly. Pointing it down, his thick, stubby fingers were hard on the grip and he widened his stance. The guy's short, stocky frame looked all the more menacing while wielding the weapon and I turned my head away from him, once again, awaiting my fate. I heard the spin of the barrel, the cock of the hammer, and then...

_CLICK..._

I flinched and let out a strangled sob, half in fear and half in anger. I was so twisted that I didn't know how to react. Should I get up and charge Fitz before he could play another round? Should I take a chance and scream, in the hopes that someone might hear me? I could just make out the party- music, the hum of conversation, kids laughing at some mundane joke- but there was also the rush of the water below, loud and rough and possibly abrogating._ Shit, they're probably all so wasted they wouldn't hear me anyway... _Goddamn it, why couldn't I have made that jump onto Clare's balcony? I could be sitting in her room right now, nursing a fresh bruise from where she frogged the hell out of me while sweet talking my way into a kiss.

"Aw, are you crying Eli?" Fitz's amused voice grated against my ear. "Look at that boys, he really _is _emo!"

Clenching my fists, I looked up at him. He held the gun in his hand...and wore the most self-righteous expression I'd ever seen. The asshole actually looked sated. And, for some reason, it was the last fucking straw. As fury descended on me, my body literally shook and I was damn sure I'd never been so pissed off in all my life. From spying on Clare to bullying Adam, and now, tormenting me- Fitz had crossed the line.

And Eli Goldsworthy had finally snapped.

Springing up off the ground, I bolted towards him with only one thing in my mind: _Total Annihilation_.

"Shit, Fitz, look out!"

It was too little, too late. I slammed into the lumbering tool and we toppled backwards onto the forest floor. The gun flew out of his hand, skidding under a nearby bush, and Fitz grunted as I whaled on his head. His friends jumped in within seconds, trying to pull me off of their 'fearless leader'...but I was a total madman. My hands were going every which way and my fist connected with somebody's nose. I heard a sickening crack and he fell to the ground beside us, moaning in pain. The other guy yanked me off of Fitz, but I managed one, good kick to the gut before he threw me back towards the edge of the gulley. Jumping up, I turned to face the coming attack but Fitz was still on his ass, wiping his split lip and sneering at me in anger.

"Nice move Eli," he snarled, shoving up off the ground. "Sure hope you're ready for more."

With that, he charged. Grabbing me around the waist, we both staggered backwards. One of his friends shouted something but it was lost in the fray as we began to fight. Clawing, poking, punching, snarling- we eventually ended up on the ground, rolling back and forth in a frenzy. The earth was hard beneath us and I hissed as a rock dug into my back. The craggy stone scraped against my hands, shredding the skin like torn ribbon as we struggled on the ravine's rugged edge.

"I'm going to throttle you, bitch!" Fitz growled, raking his fingers down my face.

"You said that before and look where it got you!" I retorted, throwing an elbow in his face.

"After I'm done with you, I'm going to de-flower that little girlfriend of yours!" he bellowed.

"Not without the use of your dick!" I snarled back and slammed a knee in his groin.

He groaned and fell to the side, keeping a grip on my jacket. His friend shouted something again and I looked up in confusion. But what happened next was beyond either of us...

Fitz rolled right over the edge of the culvert.

His grip still tight on my coat, I slid forward as his weight outmatched my own, waist deep before one of his friends grabbed my ankle. Fitz hung limply from my lapel, a terrifed expression on his face. The water below was a raging squall- a flurry of violent rapids that could easily snap either one of us in two. I swallowed hard and looked back at Fitz. The fear in his eyes was paramount. I had never seen him look so scared...it was weird. His other friend, the driver, lay down beside me and grabbed one of Fitz's hands. I tried to help him lug the ape to the side- as much as I wanted to see him hurt, I didn't want to see him dead.

But the fucker didn't move. Hell, he didn't even blink. Mark Fitzgerald was a goddamn paralytic.

"Fitz man, grab my hands!" his friend screamed.

I furrowed my brows when he failed to stir. "Hey asshole," I spat. "Take this guy's hand or you're going to die!"

This seemed to have the effect we were looking for. Clarity snapped back and he scowled at me before grabbing his friend's hand.

"Got him!" the guy yelled and pulled Fitz over. He began tugging him upwards, slowly but surely, and henchman number two let go of my leg. I scooted back but, as I lifted my upper body, Fitz's hold on his friend began to slip. Shrieking, his hand shot out and grabbed the sleeve of my coat. The move caught me completely by surprise and I lost my balance. Sliding forward, my eyes widened as I flipped over the edge.

"_SHIT_!" I yelled in total alarm. Grabbing hold of Fitz's leg, I dangled over the angry water, kicking my legs in an effort to gain leverage against the wall.

The guy above us held tight to Fitz's other hand, trying like hell to keep us from falling. "Dammit, I can't hold the both of you!" He looked peaked and struggled in vain to maintain his hold. The second guy ran over, tugging and clawing at his friend's grip, trying to yank us up and out of the gulley.

Meanwhile, I was having trouble hanging on to Fitz's leg. He was wearing a pair of distressed jeans and the well worn denim did not provide a good grip. I kept sliding further and further down, my blasted jacket making things more difficult as it bunched up between us.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! How are we going to get 'em out?" one of the guy's hissed.

"Hang on, I've got an idea!" I looked up and the other guy- the one with the curly mop top- disappeared. I began to panic- where the _hell _was he going? The other guy was clearly not able to keep hold of us!

I clawed at Fitz's leg and he growled. "Take it easy on the goods, Eli!"

"Fuck you, Fitz!" I barked. "This is all your goddamn fault!"

"My fault?" he shot back, his leg shaking involuntarily as he tried to glare at me. "If you had just stayed away from Clare-"

"Would you two shut the hell up!" his friend exclaimed. "The last fucking thing I need to deal with is your bullshit! Now focus!"

I pulled a heavy breath, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand.

Mop Top reappeared a minute later, a determined expression on his face. "Fitz, grab this and use it to pull yourself up," he commanded, lowering a tree limb over the edge. "Eli, as Fitz gets closer to the top, we'll be able to get a hold of you. Just don't let go of his fucking leg!"

Despite the circumstances, I managed a smirk. "Didn't plan to..."

Fitz grabbed the tree branch and began to lug himself out, his friend pulling on his arms to ease the weight. I pushed against the side of the ravine, climbing steadily along as he kept moving. Reaching the top, he pulled on the branch to make that final, drive up and over the edge. Mop Top stood, grabbing the other end of the branch to tug Fitz up while the other guy reached down to grab a hold of me once I got to the top. It was working! We were making our way to solid ground...I was going to come out of this mess alive! Fitz was on the edge and I held onto his foot with every last bit off strength I had. It was hard- my arms were burning from fatigue and felt like a jello mold.

Throwing a knee over the side, Fitz turned and thrust the tree limb in my face. "Grab it, man!" he demanded.

I blinked. Not five minutes ago the guy had been threatening me with a gun and now he was trying to save my life? It was...fishy. Why the hell would he want to pull me out? He'd been acting like he wanted me dead, for Christ's sake. Looking up at him, I saw the sincerity in his eyes- it was unnerving and I found myself in the midst of an internal struggle, the only question: can I trust him?

Fitz noticed the battle going on inside of me and he blew out a heavy breath. "It was fucking fake, alright..." he admitted. "The gun wasn't loaded and I never wanted you dead. I just...wanted to scare you, to show you what I was capable of so...so you'd stay away from Clare."

I scoffed, which seemed a bit silly at the time. "Nothing can keep me away from Clare."

Fitz rolled his eyes. "Good to know, Eli," he snapped. "But that's really not the issue. Grab the branch, dumbass!"

Nodding, I caught hold of the sappling and Fitz and his friends took the other end. They pulled me up and I walked along the rocky wall like an expert repeller. Together, they gave one, last final tug on the limb in an effort to thrust me over the edge.

And that's when I heard it.

Off hand, I noted the bang of a gun had previously topped my list of most terrifying sounds...but it was nothing compared to this. In my short life, I'd stepped on plenty of twigs- hiking through the woods or even milling around in the yard back in Edmonton. Typically, the sound was crisp, quick, and completely concise. However, this was unlike anything I had ever heard. The snap of the tree branch could be likened to the bang of a drum, signaling that final moment at the gallows. It was loud- echoing through the heavy night air, through my thick consciousness- and rivaled a huge, bald cypress lumbered in a vacant wood.

Yet, despite its jarring tenor- the sound wasn't the worst part. No, the worst part was the actual, physical backlash I endured as the snap reverberated around me. My stomach was in my throat, as was my heart, and, every inch of my body had gone still. I was stolid, supine...a falling rock. Time seemed to slow in those last few seconds and I watched the expression on Fitz's face go from determined to absolutely stupefied. He reached out to me but the attempt was in vain.

I was already gone.

As my body broke the surface of the rushing squall- bitter chill slicing through me like a thousand knives- a vivid image shot to the forefront of my mind. I grabbed hold of it as the dark water took me, tossing me about like a rag doll. The picture was bright and it sent a burst of adrenaline through my system. Despite the intimidating circumstances, I knew now that I couldn't give up. My mother was right- I finally had motivation- and she was with me...even now, as I struggled through a cyclone of turbulent whitewater.

_Clare. My Clare..._


	18. Chapter 18

_**So, obviously with an ending like that I'm sure some of you have questions. Those questions will be answered in the sequel to this fic, **_**Meaningless Meeting**_**. This is the prologue and it will shed **_**some _light on the events following Eli's plunge into the ravine. _**_**I will re-upload **_**Meaningless Meeting**_** as soon as I get the chance. Thanks for reading. **_

* * *

**Meaningless Meeting: A Prologue**

_"Wait for the lighting to dim just slightly, my eyes are inviting you into the scene..."_

One month, three days, seven hours, and thirty eight minutes.

And no word.

Not _one, single word_.

I can remember the way his dark hair felt between my fingers, the way it would smooth against my palm as I ran a hand through the shaggy tuft at the nape of his neck. I can remember the feel of his lips, how they moved over mine in an almost rhythmic kind of way. Our kissing had been more like a dance- a deep, sensual caper that seemed to grow in intensity the longer we did it. And then there was the way he would hold me- arms wrapped round my waist, not a millimeter between our bodies- the perfect fit...as if God intentionally molded us to harmonize.

Eli and Clare. We were. We just..._were_.

Our union had been rough to start but, once we got past the general misapprehension, evertyhing had fallen into place. We clicked. We jibed. We flowed. A constant, natural current with no beginning and no end, Eli and I were continual, we were endless, we were infinite. For a relatively new couple, we were so completely attuned to each other it was almost scary. We needed nothing, desired nothing- honestly, it was the easiest relationship I'd ever had.

And that's what made this so difficult.

I had been over that last night in my head more times than I could count. He had come to my house to see me. He had braved the drainpipe, braved a run in with my father. He had kissed me and promised to take me to a movie. Eli had even gone so far as to reassure me that my film choice- though I knew it was only said to placate me- could never scare him away.

_"I'd go see Endless Love if you asked me to..."_

God, I missed him.

The morning after his late night visit I'd gone outside to get the paper. His hearse was there. I figured ol' Morty had died again and that Eli had gone home on foot. Foolishly, I expected him to return later that day, car part under his arm, smirk on his gorgeous face. I'd find him tinkering under the hood and scold him for cursing at the engine, to which he would provide an equally, droll response.

There was a word for what I was: _naive_.

If I had called him straight away...not waited until the following Monday, angry because he didn't show. If I had gone to his house and spoken with his father (that would've been interesting) maybe the police would have found him by now. Maybe the entire school wouldn't have suffered through an interrogation and, then, a vigil because one of their own- freak or not- had up and disappeared without even a whisper.

Naturally, I had been questioned the most since I was the last to see him. My answers were not as sharp as they should have been- that first week without Eli was a haze. I'd wandered around in confusion, not fully aware of what was going on. Looking back, I realized I had suffered a case of shock. I was so overwrought with worry and surprise, I'd gone numb. I would sit in my room, stare out the window, and see nothing at all. It was...blank, white out, blotting anything and everything.

Yet, as time wore on, the depth of Eli's impact on my life began to emerge. The second week, I'd morphed into a complete basketcase- every phone call was Eli, every text, every email or Instant Message. I was jumpy and constantly on edge, teetering on a tight rope high above the ground. I tried to keep my balance- juggling school, Eli's absence, Adam's fretting, and my temultuous home life- but it was stressing. By the end of that week I was strung so tight you could literally pluck me.

The dawning of the third week brought on fear. The nightmares started then- dreams about Eli trapped in some horrible place, dead in a ditch somewhere, being held hostage by men packing pistols- on and on, the terrors had plagued me. The screams were violent, piercing...they woke the whole house and my parents forced me to take sleeping pills so we could all get some rest. But sleep did little to ease my suffering. Pills or no pills, I never got any respite. My thougts were forever consumed by Eli.

It was in the fourth week that the depression settled, nesting in my heavy heart. I never acknowledged how full my life had been with Eli in it. Thinking about my freshman year, how I'd flitted about with no real direction- no self direction- I felt frivolous and almost complacent. My goals had been short-sighted, dominated by success on the surface as opposed to anything truly penetrating.

This year had been so wonderfully different.

Eli had shown me a part of myself I'd always tried to ignore, always assumed was bad or even sinful. But it wasn't. Having a mind of your own, knowing yourself through and through, it was cultivating righteousness- not sin. Even through all the horrible trauma, Eli had come as good as they get. He may have had a bit of an issue with risk and trying to avoid love but, he'd failed on both counts because he really was that decent. He'd fallen for me and, as far as I knew, he'd given up the fight with Fitz. Of course, convincing him to do either had been a struggle. I'd found his obstanance infuriating but the anger always led to this implicit tension- no matter the situation. There was just something about Eli, the way he would look at me as if I were the only woman in the world- it awakened a side of me I'd never known- a raw, almost animalistic side that craved his touch. Clearly, he had a knack for unearthing the real me- I'd learned more about Clare Edwards after meeting Eli than I had living as Clare Edwards for fifteen years.

Life without him now was like trying to survive on carbon dioxide. It just didn't work. My body had taken on the brunt of the pain- I was thin and drawn, almost emaciated, and Adam was always shoving food at me in an attempt to put the weight on. The bags under my eyes and my dull, lifeless hair did nothing to improve my look. I had a total disregard for dressing properly- my clothing rarely matched anymore- I'd pair orange tights with zebra print without even batting an eye. I simply did not care about anything. As far as I was concerned, the world was in black and white- Eli had taken color with him the day he left.

The breaking of Day 34 was uneventful. It was the same, mindless orbit I'd dealt with for weeks. I woke up, cursed my heart for still beating, and then lugged myself out of bed. I moved through my morning routine, devoid of thought, devoid of feeling. I was going through the motions- there was no real purpose behind what I did- thoughtless, repetitive, robotic. Wake up, shower, dress: black jeans- one leg then the other- black fishnet top- one arm then the other- black tank top- one arm then the other- black boots- one foot then the other.

_Drivel_.

Gazing into the mirror, I took in my appearance. The dark clothing had come on slowly, like mold consuming me day by day. It was ironic- I had gone from sweet and vivid to scorned and dark. I had become the old Eli. The pain was written all over my face, all over my body, and I suspended in its black void- no movement, nothing at all.

I was stuck.

My eyes zeroed in on the cross around my neck and I wondered briefly why I still wore it. The stupid thing had done nothing to help me, despite all of my whispered prayers, all of my fervored begging. God had left me...alone, confused, mussed, heartbroken. And I didn't know how to handle it. All my life I assumed I could get through anything as long as I had my faith. It would help me rise above the pain, it would help me live.

"Fucking idiot," I muttered, glaring at my reflection.

_"Clare Edwards...cursed?"_

An image of Eli shot to the front of my mind and I shut my eyes, trying to block it out. This happened often. I'd be in the middle of class or even at the dinner table and a latent memory would surface. I'd start crying, of course, and my parents or teacher would fuss over me, making it that much worse.

Shoving the thought away from me, I turned and grabbed my bookbag. It was light- I'd forgotten my books the night before in my haste to get out of school. Thundering down the stairs, I grabbed my coat and rushed out the front door. I didn't bother to say goodbye to my mother- she would give me a hard time for my outfit and I wasn't in the mood. Closing the door behind me, I stopped short and blew out a heavy sigh.

True to form, Adam was standing in front of my house.

"Hey there pretty lady," he said, his tone entirely too chipper for such a deplorable day.

I wrinkled my nose as I skipped down the steps. "You call _this _pretty?" I muttered, slipping into my coat.

Not waiting for an answer, I sidestepped Adam's small frame and tromped down the sidewalk. Fingering on a pair of gloves, my heavy boots crunched through a fine dusting of early December snow. I kicked at a piece of ice caking the walkway and it shot up into the air, colliding with the window of a parked car.

I smirked. Gratifying destruction...

"Clare..." Adam stressed, scurrying to keep up with me. "I think it's time you cut the crap."

I stopped in my tracks and turned around. "_Excuse me_?"

I was glaring at him, that much was certain. My face had twisted in anger and I'm pretty sure I could have melted the snow off anything in my wake. Nevertheless, Adam did not back down. If anything, he stood his ground a little too well, puffing his chest out as he leaned into me.

"You heard me," he clipped and then his face softened. "Look, I know you miss him. Hell, I miss him, too...but I refuse to stand by and watch my best friend whither away."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not whithering away," I countered, holding up an arm. I prodded at the thick sleeve of my down coat. "See- still here! Still stuck in this wretched life! Don't worry about me, Adam...clearly, I'm not going anywhere."

Spinning around, I continued my trek to Degrassi Community School- every step like dead man walking.

"You don't know that he won't come back, Clare."

I groaned and looked up at the sky, praying for a rogue tornado to come and scoop me up. It was always the same consolation, the same ridiculous reassurance.

And I was sick of it.

"Do you honestly think that helps me?" I asked, shooting him a miserable look. "My life is in a holding pattern. I'm...stuck. Eli was...he was like oxygen, don't you get it? I don't just miss him Adam- I yearn, I pine, I crave him." Warm saline slid down my frozen cheeks. "And the more I hear about him possibly coming back to me, the more my hopes are dashed when he doesn't show. So please...don't say it. Just..._don't_..."

I trailed off, sobbing as Adam wrapped his thin arms around me. Locked in his tight embrace, my heavy heart lightened a bit as he ran his hand up and down my back. It felt good, having him there, and, slowly but surely, the torrent of tears began to subside. Adam swayed back and forth to some inaudible tune and I pulled back, looking up at him in appreciation.

I didn't know what I'd do without him.

Adam had become my rock...my anchor. Where I thought I might float away before, I'd stayed put because of him. He was always there when I needed him. Of course, he stressed it was part and parcel of the friendship gig- I had been there for him during one of the hardest times in his life and now he felt privileged to return the favor.

"I promise to hold my tongue in the future," he whispered.

I shot him a rueful smile and stepped back.

Adam grabbed my hand. "About this..." he stressed, squeezing my palm as we began to walk down the sidewalk. "But not about your health."

I grumbled under my breath. "Alright," I conceded. "We can swing into The Dot and grab something."

"That'a girl!" Adam bellowed, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

The Dot was unusually dead for a Friday morning. There were only a few students hanging out at the bar and Peter was lounging behind it, reading the Toronto Sun. Adam and I took a seat just in front of him and he peeked over the top of the newspaper. The moment he saw me, his face clouded over with concern.

"_Clare_?" he said, looking me up and down in astonishment.

I blew out a breath. "Hi Peter, can we get a couple of coffees and a danish, please?"

He blinked, still thrown by my lackluster appearance. "Uh..."

Adam shot him a glare. "Dude, any day now..." he pressed, gesturing towards the case full of pastries.

Shooting up out of his chair, Peter loped over to the case. He threw me a sidelong glance, his expression completely bewildered.

Obviously, it had been a while since I'd ventured outside. My world had become triangular- home, school, Adam's house- not a destination outside of its congruent locations.

I bit my lip. _The Bermuda Triangle...where the most important people in your life up and disappear... _

Peter delivered our breakfast and we began to eat. The danish tasted like cardboard and the coffee, like burnt motor oil, but I pretended to love it for Adam's sake. We engaged in a bit of small talk- covering the recent snowfall and the upcoming holiday. I tried to ignore the image of Eli, lost in the woods, frozen solid in a bank of ice, but it was difficult to throw off. My worrying had become its own person, with a mind and a heart to boot. Indeed, it was almost impossible to stem my constant fretting. I'd been forced to acclimate to the visions and the physical backlash they induced.

Glancing up, I noticed that Peter was staring at me over his paper, brows pulled together in thought. In a horrible attempt to look inconspicuous, he shifted his gaze back to the Sun and ducked behind the paper.

I scoffed and took a sip of my coffee. Some people were really awful at being covert. My gaze traveled around the room, landing on this or that. I noticed a couple of guys looking at us from one corner. Turning my head, I pursed my lips.

_Fitz's friends? _

I was thrown by their rapt attention. They were practically gaping at us and both looked grave, almost forlorn. I locked eyes with one of them, a tall, thin guy who shared English with Adam, Eli...I mean, Adam and I. I think his name was Michael. I raised my brows and he leaned back in surprise. Face twisting in discomfort, he looked at me as if I'd just burned him. I frowned as he whipped around, grabbed his bookbag, and shot towards the entrance of the coffee house. His curly haired friend trailed behind and, as he left, he threw one last look over his shoulder. What I saw made me flinch...

_Total agony_.

I turned back to Adam. "Did you see that?" I asked, my tone more alert than it had been in weeks.

"See what?" he garbled, mouth full of cheese danish.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Adam! That's disgusting!"

"Sorry," he croaked, swallowing the huge bite and wiping his mouth. "See what?"

I stubbed a thumb over my shoulder. "Fitz's friends," I replied. "They were looking at us like...well, they looked almost tormented."

Adam cocked an eyebrow. "A lot of people look at us like that, Clare," he replied, unfazed by the information.

I nibbled my lower lip. "True..." I replied. "But Fitz's friends? I mean, Fitz has never looked at me that way."

"That's because he's too busy trying to sweep you off your feet," Adam grunted, a repulsed look on his face.

My lips twitched and I shook my head. "He's _not _trying to sweep me-"

"Uh, yes he is," Adam cut in, a sneer on his face. "As soon as Eli went missing, that gorilla stepped in. Always trying to help you, always trying to make you feel better. Fucking bastard..."

My mouth fell open and he sighed. "It's just weird...considering his history with Eli..."

"What are you saying?" I asked, befuddled by his accusation.

He looked me in the eye and scowled. "I'm saying it's pretty damn convenient that Fitzy boy is up your ass now that Eli's gone." He tugged on his beanie and glared. "Has he asked you out, Clare?"

"_No_!"

He looked skeptical.

I narrowed me eyes. "He has not asked me out, Adam!"

"Okay," he rejoined, raising his hands in surrender. "But if he does, I think you should consider informing the police."

I gaped at him. "And tell them what? That Adam Torres thinks Fitz...offed Eli for me?"

"Damn right!" he growled, taking a swig of his coffee.

I snorted at his ability to blow things out of proportion. "Adam, I know Fitz...sure, he's a bit volatile but I highly doubt he'd do something so rash." I pulled a bill out of my wallet to pay for our meal, giving him a pointed look. "Trust me...Fitz is a bully but he's _no _murderer."


	19. Author's Note

Just a quick note to let all the fans of _Next To Me_ and_ Meaningless Meeting_ know that I have decided to re-release the stories in light of the not so happy ending in "Degrassi Land". I figure Eclare fans need a little content considering the botch job the writers pulled out. Ah well, we can't have everything I suppose...unless you're reading my fics, that is.

Enjoy.

Another quick note- I have FINALLY finished my original fiction and it is in the hands of a literary agent as we speak. I am patiently awaiting her feedback so, in the meantime, I've been working on my original sequel and a Writer's Blog. For anyone who might be interested, the link to my blog is on my profile.

Thanks again for reading.


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